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NEW  AND  COMPLETE  UNIFORM  EDITIONS. 


MAYNE   REID'S   POPULAR   WORKS, 

IN  FOURTEEN  HANDSOME  VOLUMES,  BEAUTIFULLY  ILLUSTRATED. 
CLOTH,    GILT,    SI    5©    PER    VOLCXE. 


XjOSt  I_i8HOr6  ',  oe,  toe  Advemcms  »f  a  EoLnxa-iioxE.  This  book  teems  with 
interesting  and  surprising  adventures  in  almost  every  land.  It  includes  the  hero's 
hair-breadth  'scapes  as  a  cabin  boy— his  perilous  life  as  a  soldier  In  Mexico— his  deser- 
tion and  flight  over  the  Plain*— hi<  career  as  a  gold  digger  in  Cali  ornia— and  B  vast 
deal  more  of  intensely  exciting  incident. 

The  Tiger  Hunter;  on,  a  IIeko  in  Spite  of  Himself.  Mnyne  Reid  has  sur- 
passed himself  in  the  dashing  pages  of  this  fascinating  romance.  But,  oh !  how  match- 
lessly he  describes  the  beauties  of  the  dark-eyed  maid.  Gertrudis. 

The  MarOOll  ',  or.  Planter  Life  in  Jamaica.  This  is  one  of  the  most  thrilling 
stories  ever  written. 

Wild.  HuntreSS  \  or,  Lots  «  the  Wilderness.  This  book  eloquently  shows 
t  :at  the  noblest  heart  may  beat  far  from  the  city,  and  that  a  hero's  breast  may  as  well 
be  covered  by  a  deer-skin  hunting  frock  as  by  a  kingly  robe. 

The  "WOOdrangerS  ;  or.  The  Trappers  of  Sonora.  The  knowledge  of  the 
world  of  savage  life  which  Alayne  Reid  possesses  in  so  remarkable  a  degree,  is  strongly 
exhibited  in  this  forest  romance.    It  is  penned  in  his  usual  fluent  and  forcible  style, 

W  ild  Life  \  or,  Adventures  on  thi  Frontier.  This  Talc  of  the  Early  Days  of  the 
Texan  Republic,  may  truthfully  be  styled  unsurpassable.  Without  reading  it — and  all 
should— no  idea  can  be  formed  of  the  immense  enjoyment  that  can  be  derived  from  it. 

Osceola,  The  Seminole ;  on,  the  Red  Fawn  of  the  Flowf.r  Land.  Florida, 
with  its  red-skin  rovers,  linds  in  Captain  Mayne  Reid  the  romancist  it  deserves.  The 
famous  Warrior  of  the  Seminoles  lives  his  noble  life  over  again. 

Rangers  and  Regulators  of  the  Tanaha ;  on,  life  amono  the 

La.wi.k88.  O.ily  a  person  like  Mayne  Reid,  who  had  lived  in  the  midst  of  the  wild 
scenes  herein  depicted,  could  have  penned  so  thrilling,  so  earnest,  and  so  fascinating  an 
interweaving  of  real  occurrences  far  beyond  the  highest  flights  of  fiction. 

Rifle  RangerS;  or.  Adventures  in  Southern  Mexico.  Through  virgin  forest 
and  over  boulders  in  the  desert  goes  the  variegated  thread  of  the  story  ;  where  is 
danced  the  fandango,  and  into  the  desert  where  the  lizard  starts  at  the  Indian's  war- 
whjop. 

Scalp  HunterSj  03,  Adventures  among  toe  Trappers.  The  terrible  hero  who 
becomes  a  white  scalper— the  trapper— the  dark-eyed  savage  girl— throng  this  well 
moulded  story  of  the  most  thrilling  cast. 

Hunter  S  Feast;  ok.  Conversations  around  the  Camp-Fire.  Tales  told 
around  the  "  wolf-scaring  lagot,"  by  the  hardy  hunters  and  fearless  frontiersmen,  who 
themselves  tell  of  actions  in  the  speech  they  use  in  life. 

The    \Vhite  Chief;  A  Legend  of  Northern  Mexico.    The  reader  of  this-hap- 
•     pily  conceived  working  up  of  a  well-known  legend  of  the  Texan  borders,  will  find  it 
1  difficult  to  overstate  the  deep  interest  it  will  have  given  him.    The  plot  of  tills  volume 
is  more  than  good,  and  the  execution  of  it  is  fully  equal  to  it. 

Quadroon;  or,  A  Lover's  Adventures  in  Louisiana.  The  sunny  landscape,  the 
stilly  savannahs,  the  sickly  swamps,  the  deadly  serpent,  the  unwieldv  alligator,  are  all 
portrayed  in  his  usual  var  ed  hues  by  this  chronicler  of  the  "  Pelican  State."  The  love 
scenes  have  all  the  warmth  of  the  Creole  blood. 

"War  Trail;  op.,  The  IIunt  of  the  Wlin  Hobse,    Wild  Indians,  with  dismal  swamps 
and  fathomless  caverns,  having  been  In  other  works  splendidly  painted  by  this  forest 
rambler,  he  has  given  them  n  secondary  place  in  the   "War  Trail,"  and  taken  up  the 
pursuit  or  that  peerless  Phantom  Steed  whic:i  fills  the  legends  of  Western  Trappers. 
These  form  the  Most  Interesting  Series  of  Works  ever  l'ublished. 

XW  Copies  of  the  above  Rook*  sent  to  any  address  in  the  United  States  and  Canadas, 
free  of  postage.    Send  cash  orders  to 

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BACK-BONE; 


PHOTOGRAPHED    FROM  "THE   SCALPEL." 


BY 


EDWAED    H.  DIXON,  M.  D. 


society—"  Light  and  darkness,  majesty  and  mud  :  nectar  and  poison,  in  on* 
goblet"— Haeo. 


NEW   YORK: 

EOBEET  M.  DE  WITT,  PUBLISHER, 

13  FRANKFORT  STREET. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1866,  by 
ROBERT    M.    DE    WITT, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States,  for  the 
Southern  District  of  New  York. 


TO 

HORACE  GREELEY  AND  PETER  COOPER, 

FRIENDS     OF 

THEIR      COUNTRY      AND      MANKIND, 

THIS   BOOK   IS   OFFERED 

BY 

THE   ACTHOR. 


PREFACE. 


The  first  volume  of  selections  from  the  Scalpel,  entitled 
"Scenes  in  the  Practice  of  a  New  York  Surgeon,"  was  pub- 
lished ten  years  since,  and  was  received  by  the  public  in  a 
manner  very  gratifying  to  the  feelings  of  the  editor.  The 
present  volume  is  of  a  widely  different  character,  and  far  more 
illustrative  of  the  scope  and  object  of  that  journal :  whether  it 
will  be  equally  acceptable,  remains  to  be  seen. 

If  the  photographer  would  secure  a  faithful  picture,  he 
knows  that  his  lens  must  be  accurately  ground  and  adjusted, 
that  the  rays  of  light  may  not  be  distorted,  and  the  image  be 
truthfully  conveyed  to  the  sensitive  surface,  prepared  to  re- 
ceive it;  and  even  then,  if  the  subsequent  chemical  mani- 
pulations be  not  carefully  done,  the  pure  sunlight  will  only 
serve  to  show  more  darkly  the  spots  made  apparent  by  his 
want  of  skill.  It  is  quite  possible  the  editor  has  been  writing 
as  Leigh  Hunt  said  to  some  friends  who  asked  him  how  he 
got  home  in  one  of  those  miserable  foggy  nights  so  common 
in  London — he  went  home  by  mud-light.  If  so,  he  can  only 
say,  he  fears  a  great  portion  of  the  human  family  have  reached 
their  long  homes,  and  a  great  multitude  are  still  traveling 
thitherward  by  medical  mud-light. 

Our  professional  friends  (?)  will  be  surprised  to  learn  that 
the  title  was  furnished  by  a  President  of  the  New  York  Aca- 


VI  PREFACE. 

demy  of  Medicine !  In  a  conversation  with  one  of  those 
aspiring  young  gentlemen  whom  we  have  elsewhere  classified 
as  the  literary  Lumbrici  of  the  profession,  and  who  was  at  the 
time  editing  one  of  those  ephemeral  and  albuminous  month- 
lies devoted  to  the  interest  of  the  great  medical  Trades 
Union,  he  felicitated  himself,  on  the  issue  of  our  second 
number,  that  the  Scalpel  would  soon  expire.  Our  distin- 
guished preceptor,  (the  late  Dr.  Valentine  Mott,)  who  was  then 
President  of  "the  Academy,"  and  who  always  most  empha- 
tically condemned  the  journal,  and  its  object,  replied, 
"There's  too  much  back-bone  in  it,  my  dear  doctor,  to  admit 
the  hope." 

Society  has  been  said  to  be  a  joint-stock  partnership,  op- 
posed to  the  manhood  of  any  one  of  its  members  who  may 
chance  to  show  a  little  more  strength  in  his  spinal  column 
than  his  brethren.  We  trust  our  own  will  prove  able  to  sup- 
port us,  for  some  time  to  come,  against  the  medical  anthropo- 
phagi. Our  professional  pursuits  will  not  admit  of  the  regular 
issue  of  our  journal,  but  we  shall  carry  out  the  original  pros- 
pectus, i.  e.,  "publish  it  when  we  please,  put  in  it  what  we 
please,  and  trust  we  shall  have  sense  enough  to  stop  it  when 
we  have  nothing  more  to  say." 

Edwabd  H.  Dixon. 
42  Fifth  Avenue. 


CONTENTS. 


INTRODUCTORY. 

A  BIDE  ON  THE  PHYSIOLOGICAL  BUFFALO— THE  HUMAN  TEMPERAMENTS— CHIPS 
FROM  THE  PHRENOLOGICAL  LOG — WHAT  IS  THE  LIFE  LINE  f 13 

THE  FACULTY  AND  THE  SCALPEL. 

POSITION  OF  THE  FACULTY  AND  THE  SCALPEL— CONSERVATIVE  ANTIQUARIES— 
FOSSILIZED  MORALISTS— PROFESSIONAL  TURNERS  AND  THEIR  TURNING  LATHES 
—EDITORIAL  ECCENTRICITY— DIPLOMAS  AND  THEORIES— CRIBS,  TEA-KETTLES, 
AND  CORN-BASKETS 17 

SCENES  IN  WESTERN  PRACTICE. 

FROST  FOLIAGE  PAINTED  BY  MOONLIGHT— THE  MERCY  ANGELS— CHILD  MESSEN- 
GER—THE WEDDING-RING  FEE— A  MIDNIGHT  RIDE— ARE  THEY  HUNGRY  IN 
HEAVEN?— THE  DAUGHTER  OF  A  CITY  MERCHANT— THE  FIRE  KING — THE  GOL- 
DEN AND  THE  SILVER  RULE— ADVERSITY  AND  LABOR  THE  SOUL  ELEVATORS — 
DEATH  THE  GREAT  PURIFIER— THE  CLERICAL  SPECULATOR— MORALITY  AND 
MAMMON— CITY  AND  COUNTRY  CORRUPTION — GRAIN  SPECULATION;  AWFUL 
CONSEQUENCES  ON  MORALS — THE  MIDNIGHT  VISIT  OF  THE  ANGELS  TO  THE 
GREAT  CITY— ITS  CONDITION— THE  CHILD  THIEF^THE  ANGEL'S  BLESSING — 
DEATH  OF  THE  MERCHANT'S  DAUGHTER 26 

SCENES  IN  CITY  PRACTICE. 

LEAVES  FROM  THE  LOG  OF  AN  UNFLEDGED  ^SCULAPIAN  :  FISHING  FOR  PRAC- 
TICE IN  A  FASHIONABLE  NEIGHBORHOOD— MASTER  TIP  TAPE  AND  HIS  NOSE- 
IRISH    PRACTICE— A    SCENE  IN    HIGH    LIFE— THE  MANIAC 47 

VILLAGE  PRACTICE. 

SKETCHES  OF  VILLAGE  PRACTICE — SABBATH  IN  THE  COUNTRY— MY  FIRST  CASE 
—A  MALADY  OF  MIND  AND  BODY 59 


Vlll  CONTENTS. 

INFIDELITY  OF  MEDICAL  MEN. 

INSTINCTIVE  IDEAS  OF  CREATIVE  POTTER— THE  RED  GLOBULES  OP  THE  BLOOD 
— WHEN  AND  HOW  FORMED — EARLY  SUBSTITUTE  FOR  LUNGS  IN  THE  CHICK- 
USES  OF  THE  RED  AND  WHITE    GLOBULES— WHAT    IS  THE    LIFE    CELL?     .       69 

AN  UNDELIVERED  AND  UN-ORTHODOX  ADDRESS. 

THE  THIRD  ANNIVERSARY  ORATION  FOR  THE  NEW  YORK  ACADEMY  OF  MEDICINE 
WHICH  WAS  NOT  DELIVERED  BEFORE  THAT  REMARKABLE  BODY,  BUT  OUGHT 
TO  HAVE  BEEN,  AT  THEIR  ANNUAL  MEETING,  HELD  IN  THE  CHAPEL  OF  THE 
UNIVERSITY,  NOVEMBER  14TH,  1849,  BY  THE  PHYSICIAN  WHO  WAS  NOT 
ELECTED  FOR  THAT  OCCASION.  (PUBLISHED  WITHOUT  THE  KNOWLEDGE  OB 
CONSENT  OF  THE  ACADEMY) 81 

AN  ARTIST'S  REVERIE. 

THE  ARTIST  IN  HIS  WORK-CHAMBER— WEBSTER— THE  CHILD— THE  UNCOVERED 
BUST— THE  BUILDING  OF  THE  EARTH— THE  GARDEN— ADAM  AND  EVE— THE 
FIRST  SIN  ;     ITS  FRUIT 103 

TARTAR  EMETIC. 

AN  EXCELLENT  SWEATING,  NAUSEATING,  AND  VOMITING  ARTICLE  FOR— THE  PRO- 
FESSION       112 

SCENES  IN  A  MEDICAL  STUDENT'S  LD7E. 

A  FLYING  LEAP  WITH  THE  DEAD— A  MUD-BATH  AT  MIDNIGHT— OLD  JEMMY'S 
CURSE— BLUE  BLAZES— A  RACE  FOR  OLD  RUTGERS— SAFE  AT  LAST      ...     125 

A  GONE  FOX. 

THE  LAST  WORDS  OF  AN  OLD  MEDICAL  FOX,  CAUGHT  IN  THE  HOSPITAL  TRAP,  TO 
HIS  YOUNG  BRETHREN  OUTSIDE — THE  OLD  TURKEY  ROOST— YOUNG  FOXES 
MUSTN'T  EAT   TURKEY 137 

ABORTIONISM. 

DIABOLICAL  WICKEDNESS  OF  ABORTIONISM— WOMAN'S  GENTLENESS  AND  BEAUTY 
ATTRACTIVE  TO  CHILDREN — DESIRE  FOR  OFFSPRING  AN  ESSENTIAL  PART  OF 
HER    EXISTENCE 144 

ICHTHYO-JECORO-PLASTY. 

AN  ASTONISHING  DISCOVERY— HOW  TO  MAKE  GENUINE  COD  LIVER  OIL— OUR 
WGNATURE  D3  OVER  THE  CORK 158 

GREAT  PHILANTHROPIC  ENTERPRISE. 

THB    GENUINE  BEAR'S  GREASE— OUR  MR.    SWIZZLE-EM 161 


CONTENTS.  -  IX 

SCENES  IN  EAELY  PRACTICE. 

THE  OLD  BAST  WING  OF  BELLEVUE  ;  ITS  TRANSFORMATION— SCENES  IN  THE 
CHOLERA  OF  1832— POWER  OF  ART 163 

SKETCHES  OF  THE  PEOPLE. 

WATCHING  YOCR  DIGNITY 174 

LIFE  SKETCHES  OF  EMINENT  NEW  YORK  PHYSICIANS. 

THE  OLD  COLLEGE  IN  DUANE  STREET— THE  PROFESSORS-^THE  URSA  MAJOR  (DR. 
FRANCIS)— AN  EXAMINATION— THE  PHENOMENON,  JUST  ARRIVED  PROM  PARIS 
—A   LUDICROUS  SCENE— DR.   BUSH 178 

AN  ARTIST'S  REVERIE.— NO.  H. 

MIDNIGHT— THE  RISING  STORM — THE  DEATH  OF  ABEL— THE  MARE  ON  THE  MUR- 
DERER'S   BROW— HIS    PRAYER 190 

A  VISION  OF  THE  DAMNED. 

WHAT  BECOMES  OF  THE  DOCTORS  AND  APOTHECARIES  WHEN  THEY  DIET  .     .     195 

TOBACCO. 

ITS  INFLUENCE  ON  THE  MIND  AND  BODY  OF  AMERICAN  MEN 200 

HUMANITARY  SKETCHES  FROM  THE  HIGHWAYS. 

THE  RATTLE-SNAKE  ANATOMIST— THE  LAST  FEE— RELIGIOUS  PREJUDICE— DEAR 
SUE,  DO   I    RESEMBLE  YOU? 208 

SMALL  POX. 

INOCULATION— VACCINATION— WHAT  ARE  THEY?— IS  VACCINATION  A  PREVEN- 
TIVE OF  SMALL-FOX  OR  NOT? 221 

AN  ARTIST'S  REVERD3.— NO.  HL 

PAGANINI— MEMORIES  OF  ITALY— RAPHAEL— MICHAEL  ANGELO— EDOM  THE  SOL- 
ITARY—THE  SPHINX— CLEOPATRA— MARY  STUART 228 

SCENES  FROM  CITY  PRACTICE. 

A  TRIAL  FOR  CHILD-MURDER— THE  VALUE  OF  EVIDENCE— CRIMINAL  LAW  HELP- 
LESS WITHOUT  PHYSIOLOGICAL  EVIDENCE 238 

BEAR-BAITING  IN  THE  STAR-CHAMBER. 

THE  "  ARMIGEROS  "  OF  THE  NEW  YORK  ACADEMY— THE  SIMIA  IN  GRAND  COUN- 
CIL—THE GRIZZLY  BEAR  OF  THE  WEST— A  TERRIBLE  SCENE— THE  ACADE- 
MICIAN FROM  "  AULD  REEKIE  "—DR.  GODMAN 249 

1* 


CONTENTS. 


SCENES  IN  CITY  PRACTICE. 

DIFFERENT  WATS  OF  PREPARATION  FOR  DEATH— THE  MISER— THE  OLD  MC8IC 
TEACHER— CHEATING  THE  UNDERTAKER— THE  PHILOSOPHICAL  GAMBLER    .     260 


DISCOURSE  ON  MORALS. 

THE  GREAT  SURGICAL  GOOSE-PEN — THE  OLD  FOX — HE  ESCAPES  FROM  THE  TRAP 
—MEDICAL  CANNIBALS— VISIT  FROM  A  HEAD-CHEESE— A  BUTCHER  SURGEON  270 

EARLY  TREATMENT  OF  CHILDREN. 

AIR,  BATHS  AND  EXERCDJE— ABSURDITY  OF  BANDAGES— TEMPERATURE  AND 
EFFECTS    OF   BATHS     .  * 280 

NATURE  AS  PHYSICIAN. 

NATURAL  POWERS  OF  THE  BODY— IMPERTINENCE  OF  DRUG-GIVING — UNCERTAIN- 
TY OF  REMEDIES— SUPERSTITIOUS  NATURE  OF  MANKIND 286 

MEDICAL  SHEEP-SHEARING. 

GREAT  CRY  AND  LITTLE  WOOL— THE  MADMAN  OF  SEVILLE— A  DESPERATE  EN- 
COUNTER WITH  FOUR  BUCKRAM  ROBBERS — A  BONA  FIDE  ENCOUNTER— A  MYSTE- 
RIOUS BODY  FOUND  IN  TURTLE  BAY— THE  CORONER'S  VERDICT— THE  AWFUL 
CLASP-KNIFE— A  MEDICAL  AND  PSYCHOLOGICAL  PHENOMENON       ....     297 

A  BOY'S  THEOLOGICAL  EXPERIENCE. 

FAMILY  ANTECEDENTS — PARENTAL  AUTHORITY  IN  THE  LAST  GENERATION— COR- 
POREAL PUNISHMENT  AND  ITS  EFFECTS — READING  HABITS — A  "  SERIOUS  LI- 
BRARY"— TWO  BOOKS  AND  THEIR  CONTENTS — ETERNAL  PUNISHMENT — FAN- 
CIES ABOUT  HELL— ILLUSTRATION  OF  THE  IDEA  OF  ETERNITY — OVERPOWER- 
ING DREAD  OF  BOTH,  AND  OF  DEATH— IDEAS  ABOUT  DROWNING — IMAGINED 
LOCALITIES  OF  HELL— OF  PEOPLE  IN  IT— THE  DAY  OF  JUDGMENT     ....      307 

AN  ARTIST'S  REVERIE.— NO.  IT. 

AN  HOUR  AFTER  MIDNIGHT— UNEARTHLY  SHAPES— THE  DELUGE— THE  HUMAN 
VOICE— THE  THRONE  OF  MAN— THE  TROPHIES  OF  HELL— DUALITY  IN  ALL 
THINGS 318 

CRUCIFIXION  OP  CHILDREN. 

CRUCIFIXION  OF  CHILDREN  BY  THE  ROUTINE  SYSTEM  OF  EDUCATION— THE 
NATURAL  CAPACITY  CAN  ONLY  BE  KNOWN  BY  THE  STUDY  OF  THE  TEMPERA- 
MENT—EVIL EFFECT  OF  CRUSHING  THE  WILL— THE  SENTIMENT  OF  OMNIPO- 
TENCE—WILL MAKES  THE  MAN 327 


CONTENTS.  XI 

FASHIONABLE  DRESS. 

ITS  INFLUENCE  ON  THE  HEALTH  AND  DIGNITY  OF  WOMAN 339 

WORK  WHILE  'TIS  DAY. 

LINES    DEDICATED   TO    THE  EDITOR,  ON  HEADING  THE  SIXTH  VOLUME     .     .     342 

HOTEL  PRACTICE  IN  NEW  YORK. 

AN  INFERNAL  ABUSE 343 

MEDICAL  EXPERIENCES. 

BRANDY  AND  TOBACCO,  COFFEE,  OPIUM  AND  TEA— WHY  HAS  NATURE  PRODUCED 
THESE  ARTICLES?— ARE  THEIR  INFLUENCES  WHOLLY  EVIL?— DO  THEY  SERVE 
SOME  PURPOSE   IN  NATURE? 346 

SHOTS  FROM  THE  CAVE  OF  A  RECLUSE. 

THE  MEDICAL  CRUSOE— HOW  TO  GRIND  YOUR  OWN  AXE 852 

PERCENTAGE  ON  MEDICAL  PRESCRIPTIONS. 

THE  DEVICE    OF  A  MEDICAL  VAMPIRE 355 

ADVICE   TO   COUNTRY  PEOPLE  SEEKING  MEDICAL  AID 
IN  THE  CITY. 

SHUT  YOUR  MOUTH  AND  OPEN  YOUR  EARS S59 

THE  LIFE-FORCE. 

DISEASES  OF  DEFECTIVE  NUTRITION  IN  THE  YOUNG  GIRL— CAN  MEDICINE  CURE 
SCROFULA  OR  PULMONARY  CONSUMPTION  ?— HAS  IT  ANY  INFLUENCE  ON  SPINAL 
DISEASE  OR  DISEASES  OF  THE  JOINTS  ?— WHAT  SHOULD  BE  DONE  FOR  THEM  ?     364 

CAUSES  OF  THE  WAR. 

GOD  IS  NOT  A  LIAR— LIBERTY  IS  THE  ORGANIC  LAW 372 

THE  CONSUMPTION  CURER. 

THE  MEDICAL  VULTURE— THE  PRICE  OF  A  COFFIN  AND  A  SHROUD     ....     374 

PRINCE  MURAT'S  DEFENCE. 

VALDE  OF   SIX    KICKS— A    POWERFUL  APPEAL— THE    REPLY 876 


Xll  CONTENTS. 

THE  SYMPATHETIC  NATURE  OP  DISEASE. 

DISEASES  OF  THE  RECTUM,  BLADDER  AND  UTERUS— THEIR  POWER  TO  SIMULATE 
DISEASE  IN  OTHER  PARTS  OF  THE  BODY — CONCEALED  ABSCESS  OF  THE  RECTUM 
OFTEN  PRODUCTIVE  OF  FISTULA.:  VARICOCELE  AND  STRICTURE 379 

CUEING  DISEASE. 

CAN  IT  BE  DONE  f— THE  DUTY  OF  A  CONSCIENTIOUS  MEDICAL  MAM    ....     380 

AN  ALLEGORY. 

SOCIETY— ITS    REQUIREMENTS— THE    OLD    CEDAR 390 

WORMS  m  PORK  AND  MUTTON. 

WORMS  IN  THE  ORGANS  AND  MUSCLES  OF  VARIOUS  ANIMALS— DEATH  IN  GER- 
MANY FROM  TRICHINJE— CASES  IN  THIS  COUNTRY— THE  FILARIA  OR  THREAD 
WORM  IN  THE  EYE  OF  A  HORSE 392 

A  REMARKABLE  QUACK. 

MOVEMENTS  OF  DISTINGUISHED  PERSONAGES 305 


INTRODUCTORY. 


WHAT  ARE   THE  TEMPERAMENTS? 

It  has  for  so  many  centuries  been  the  custom  to  look 
to  certain  gentlemen  in  spectacles,  whose  manners  are 
somewhat  formal,  and  whose  conversation  not  very  in- 
telligible, for,  the  purchase  of  a  very  useful  commodity 
called  health,  (an  article  without  which  we  are  not  able  to 
make  a  very  useful  or  graceful  addition  to  society,  and 
the  non-possession  of  which,  like  too  little  money,  is  par- 
ticularly inconvenient)  that  such  wares  as  we  offer  have 
not  met  with  many  very  dignified  and  conservative  ad- 
mirers. Now  and  then,  however,  we  receive  some  grati- 
fying assurances  that  Japonicadom  begins  to  feel  there  is 
something  rotten  within,  that  makes  her  petals  turn  pale 
and  the  leaves  fall  off.  She  discovers  that  the  hot-house 
and  the  ball-room  do  not  make  a  very  durable  bloom  in 
her  darlings,  and  begins  to  suspect  there  may  be  some 
defect  in  the  cutting  or  the  seed  ;  something  too  is  now 
and  then  suspected  to  be  wrong  in  the  process  of  inarch- 
ing or  grafting,  that  accounts  for  the  early  death  of  so 
many  of  the  darlings  of  the  second  generation ;  the 
juices  which  nourish  the  blossoms  are  poisoned  in  some 
way,  and  the  doctor's  skill  is  unsatisfactory ;  rosewood, 


XIV       A  BIDE  ON  THE  PHYSIOLOGICAL  BUFFALO. 

satin,  and  silver  nails,  are  often  required  in  their  place  ; 
but  black  is  very  interesting,  and  then  Dr.  Creamcheese 
is  so  very  consolatory  in  his  attentions ;  the  "  mysterious 
providence  of  God"  is  so  incomprehensible,  and  we 
should  submit  "  with  becoming  resignation." 

Suppose,  now,  my  lovely  and  fashionable  reader,  you 
lay  aside  your  crochet-needles,  and  your  box  of  bon-bons 
that  Augustus  has  brought  you,  and  endeavor  to  make 
the  discovery  whether  the  brain  of  that  "  charming  young 
gentleman  "  is  probably  as  like  in  its  structure  and  func- 
tions to  a  starved  cauliflower,  as  the  anterior  portion  of 
its  envelope  is  to  the  oblong  segment  of  a  goose-egg ; 
you  will  then  have  some  wholesome  exercise  of  your  own, 
when  you  reflect  upon  the  propriety  of  selecting  him  as 
your  guide  and  counsellor  through  life,  and  the  father  of 
your  children,  in  preference  to  "  that  horrid  creature  " 
whose  head  resembles,  about  as  much  as  anything,  the 
hump  of  a  buffalo.  "We  select  our  classical  comparisons 
according  to  our  existing  humor ;  at  present  you  may 
consider  yourself  mounting  a  physiological  buffalo  ;  make 
yourself  perfectly  comfortable,  dearest ;  all  you  need 
do  is  to  sit  quietly  behind  the  hump  and  hold  on  to  us  ; 
we  have  neither  dined  to-day  on  wolf,  wild-cat,  or  rattle- 
snake ;  it  is  true  we  are  going,  as  we  often  do,  to  tell 
you  some  disagreeable  truths,  as  we  have  lately  told  our 
male  friends  about  their  tobacco  and  some  other  vilo 
habits  ;  but  we  presume  it  will  not  annoy  you,  and  you 
will  soon  forget  the  disagreeable  exercise  and  resume 
your  rocking-chair,  bon-bons,  and  plumcake.  Sweet 
Frederick  Augustus  will  console  you. 

Forgive  us,  darling,  for  such  naughty  talk,  and  let  us 
have  the  felicity  to  assist  you  to  mount ;  don't  be  afraid 
— what  a  charming  little  foot ;  there,  my  love,  you  are 
safely  seated  ;  let  us  you  assure  the  "  horrid  animal "  will 


THE   HUMAN  TEMPERAMENTS.  Xv 

be  perfectly  gentle  with  such  a  freight ;  we  control  the 
creature  perfectly ;  he  is  very  gentle  to  the  sex. 

What  do  we  mean  by  "the  temperaments?"  They 
are  the  visible  measure  of  a  man's  life-force  and  bodily 
and  mental  capacity,  and  may  be  just  as  well  understood, 
if  you  will  take  the  trouble  to  learn,  as  the  speed  and 
bottom  of  a  horse. 

Mere  vegetative  life  is  the  sum  total  of  the  powers  that 
resist  decay.  We  call  its  degree,  the  constitution  ;  and 
each  man  has  his  own,  in  common  with  other  animals. 
A  man  has  strong  or  weak  vital  ^orce ;  he  breathes 
powerfully  or  feebly  ;  he  feeds  to  advantage  or  disadvan- 
tage ;  if  he  have  strong  vital  force,  he  is  usually  fond  of 
animal  food,  and  is  very  active  and  energetic  in  his 
movements  ;  if  he  be  weak  in  his  vital  force,  or  lymphatic 
in  temperament,  he  is  more  sluggish  in  his  movements 
and  is  satisfied  with  food  that  yields  less  fibrine  and  red 
globules  to  his  blood  ;  these  make  muscles.  Vegetarians 
are  generally  cold-blooded  and  phlegmatic  ;  hence  we 
deduce  the  temperaments  :  sanguine,  sanguine-bilious, 
and  lymphatic,  (popularly  called  phlegmatic,)  of  the  old 
standard  physiologists.  The  temperament  means  noth- 
ing more  than  the  physical  condition  of  the  man,  that 
gives  him  his  position  as  an  active  or  passive  agent 
amongst  his  fellows. 

A  man  of  fine  physical  conformation,  and  plenty  of  red 
blood  flowing  through  his  face,  with  clear  bright  blue  \>r 
gray  eyes,  capacious  lungs,  broad  shoulders,  and  wavy 
brown  hair  and  beard,  is  of  the  highest  sanguine  temper- 
ament ;  he  has  high  vital  force  ;  and  if  he  have  a  well- 
balanced  brain  and  a  good  early  education,  he  is  sus- 
ceptible to  the  best  influences  ;  if  not,  and  he  be  so 
unfortunate  as  to  marry  a  mean  and  soul-less  woman,  he 
will  go  to  the  devil. 


Xvi  EXAMPLES  OP  THE  TEMPERAMENTS. 

A  man  with  a  fall  and  well-rounded  person,  and  a 
much  paler  face,  and  light  straight  hair  and  beard, 
with  shorter  limbs  and  fingers,  and  built  like  a  fat  wo- 
man, is  slower  in  his  movements  and  passions,  and 
colder  in  temperature  ;  he  is  lymphatic  (phlegmatic)  in 
temperament,  and  whoever  marries  him  will  be  obliged 
to  take  great  care  of  him  ;  his  blood  circulates  too  slowly 
to  admit  of  generosity  ;  she  must  have  his  slippers,  and 
tea,  and  toast,  ready  betimes,  or  he  will  let  her  know  that 
she  has  committed  a  sin  not  easily  forgotten  ;  he  will 
count  every  cent  of  her  pin-money. 

Such  people  usually  join  societies  and  churches,  for 
they  cannot  stand  firm  without  some  one's  aid  to  sustain 
them  ;  they  are  acute  at  a  bargain,  and  are  generally 
called  "  exemplary  members  of  society  ;"  but  they  are 
often  cursed  by  the  widow  and  orphan  after  the  settle- 
ment of  their  estates,  to  which  occupation  they  have  a 
great  proclivity  ;  and  neither  the  little  children  nor  the 
poor  negroes  greet  them  with  a  smile  as  they  pass  them 
on  the  road. 

A  lean  man  with  well-defined  and  hard  muscles,  big 
nose,  no  fat,  tall  and  long-limbed,  with  brown  hair  and 
beard,  and  gray  eyes,  and  very  active  and  energetic  in 
his  movements,  has  the  highest  degree  of  executive  and 
vital  force  combined  ;  he  is  sanguine-bilious  ;  the  bile 
hides  the  red  blood  in  his  face,  and  makes  him  darker. 

If  he  be  an  educated  man  and  fond  of  domestic  life,  a 
woman  of  soul  and  delicacy  of  sentiment,  if  she  be  in 
some  degree  his  opposite  in  temperament,  may  control 
him  to  any  extent  compatible  with  his  honor ;  but  we 
advise  all  wire-pullers  and  designing  or  cunning  men  to 
give  him  a  wide  berth,  he  will  prove  a  most  impractica- 
ble creature  "  to  operate  on." 

We  occasionally  observe  marked  examples  of  the  mixed 


CHIPS  FBOM  THE  PHBENOLOGICAL  LOG.  xvii 

temperament,  especially  the  nervous  and  sanguine,  and 
nervous  and  bilious ;  these  are  characterized  by  the  pe- 
culiarities of  their  respective  types,  with  the  addition  of 
a  greatly  increased  quickness  of  movement  and  speech  ; 
when  the  nervous  element  predominates,  the  individual 
is  sometimes  said  to  be  of  that  distinctive  temperament  ; 
but  this  is  in  our  opinion  wrong,  as  it  is  impossible  to 
class  the  degree  of  mobility  as  a  temperament,  when  it 
is  never  uncombined  with  the  far  more  distinctive 
characteristicts  of  bile  and  blood. 

These  are  the  old  and  well-defined  temperaments  of 
the  books,  with  which  every  person  of  ordinary  attain- 
ment should  be  acquainted.  Many  persons  are  no  com- 
mon judges  of  character  and  temperament,  who  know 
no  arbitrary  distinctions,  but  give  evidence  by  their  con- 
versation and  the  tact  they  show  in  their  communication 
with  their  fellows,  that  they  possess  great  powers  of  ob- 
servation and  sagacity  in  their  conclusions. 

It  will  be  observed  by  the  medical  reader,  that  we  have 
left  out  the  melancholic  temperament ;  we  do  so  because 
we  consider  it  impossible  to  mark  such  a  one  distinc- 
tively, any  more  than  the  nervous  temperament.  Con- 
stitutional melancholy  is  inherited;  and  although  it 
doubtless  depends  upon  physical  organization,  its  vic- 
tims only  become  marked  by  it,  when  grief  has  done  its 
work  on  the  organism.  Dr.  Powell  calls  the  melancholic 
the  "  Encephalic  temperament ;  it  is,  according  to  him, 
denoted  by  an  unusual  development  of  the  anterior 
brain  ;  we  consider  the  term  happily  expressive  ;  whether 
it  be  synonymous  with  the  melancholic  temperament  or 
not,  it  is  certainly  not  indicative  of  vital  force.  Accord- 
ing to  our  own  observation,  a  child  who  has  a  great 
predominance  of  the  anterior  brain,  and  especially  of  the 
forehead  (popular)  is  about  as  unfortunate  in  his  sus- 


Xviii  WHAT   IS   THE  LIFE  LINE? 

ceptibility  to  early  disease  and  death,  as  he  will  undoubt- 
edly prove  in  after-life  should  he  survive,  in  tenacity  of 
purpose  and  effective  pursuit  of  the  practical  business  of 
life  ;  if  he  possess  both  the  anterior  and  posterior  por- 
tions equally  balanced,  he  will  be  a  comprehensive  and 
philosophical  man  :  if  the  posterior  be  still  larger  than  a 
large  anterior,  he  may  be  a  Webster ;  but  if  he  have  a 
little  round  head,  say  a  third  of  a  circle  of  seven  inches, 
he  will  be  a  selfish  man,  who  uses  the  smallest  means  to 
attain  his  objects  ;  and  whatever  caution  he  may  have 
used  to  preserve  the  semblance  of  integrity  in  early  life, 
if  he  reach  seventy,  it  will  inevitably  leave  him,  and 
vanity  and  selfishness  will  assert  their  full  power. 

With  good  perceptive  faculties,  indicated  by  a  large 
brow  and  moderate  forehead,  but  with  a  high  brain  be- 
hind, a  man  even  with  a  very  limited  education,  if  fond  of 
domestic  life  and  happily  married,  will  speedily  show  his 
superiority  in  all  the  practical  business  of  life  where  per- 
severance and  firmness  are  requsite  ;  but  if  his  posterior 
brain  slopes  suddenly  downwards,  he  will  be  looking  out 
early  for  a  gold-headed  cane  and  a  rocking-chair ;  he 
must  be  somebody's  ditto  or  second  somebody's  resolu- 
tion ;  for  he  cannot  get  up  the  necessary  brain-force  to 
form  an  opinion  of  his  own  ;  such  men  must  be  sustained 
by  others  ;  and  if  we  were  so  unfortunate  as  to  possess 
such  children,  we  would  purchase  annuities  for  them  at 
once,  for  we  know  they  never  could  help  themselves. 

But  we  did  not  set  out  to  write  an  essay  on  phrenology, 
for  which  we  have  neither  the  credulity  nor  the  ability  ; 
commercial  phrenology,  like  commercial  physic  and  sur- 
gery, we  heartily  despise.  Can  the  life-force  be  culti- 
vated by  regularity  of  life  and  intellectual  pursuits  ?  We 
answer  that  it  can,  and  think  it  can  be  proved.  We 
propose  to  attempt  it  in  the  following  pages. 


B  A  C  K-B  0  N  E . 


"  We  shall  never  fail  to  crack  the  satiric  thong  wherever  it  is  deserved,  either 
by  ignorance  or  impudence."— Prospectus,  1849. 


POSITION  OP  THE  FACULTY  AND  THE  SCALPEL — CONSEKVATIVE  ANTIQUARIES— FOS- 
SILIZED MORALISTS— PROFESSIONAL  TURNERS  AND  THEIR  TURNING  LATHES- 
EDITORIAL  ECCENTRICITY— DIPLOMAS  AND  THEORIES — CRIBS,  TEA-KETTLES,  AND 

corn-baskets.— Scalpel,  1856. 

"  In  enterprises  of  great  pith  and  moment,  it  is  better  that  a  man  fce  some- 
what absurd  than  over  formal." — Bacon. 

Sixteen  years  have  been  added  to  the  great  volume  of 
the  past  since  we  launched  our  little  shallop  upon  the 
ocean  of  experiment,  without  a  doubt  of  its  success  if 
industry  or  energy  would  secure  it,  but  with  deep-felt 
misgivings  of  our  ability  to  meet  the  intellectual  require- 
ments of  that  class  of  readers  for  whose  approbation 
alone  we  felt  willing  to  labor.  In  commencing  our  twelfth 
volume,  we  are  so  far  assured  of  the  success  of  the  enter- 
prise, that  we  feel  We  may  draw  upon  the  good  nature  of 
our  readers  whilst  we  attempt  to  give  an  account  of  those 
early  impressions  and  experiences  which  first  originated 
the  idea.  In  several  past  numbers  of  our  journal,  we 
have  gone  somewhat  into  detail  on  the  subject,  but,  hon- 


18  FOSSILIZED  ANTIQUARIES. 

est  as  our  occasional  expositions  have  been,  either  the 
manner  or  assertions  in  most  of  them  have  drawn  upon 
us  the  wrath  of  a  portion  of  our  professional  brethren, 
and  made  some  proselytes  for  the  complaining  party 
amongst  the  more  conservative  class  of  the  people.  It 
is  true  that  our  professional  opponents,  by  reason  of  the 
extreme  delicacy  of  their  position,  have  been  somewhat 
numerous,  and  their  assistants  in  the  foray  rather  formid- 
able, so  far  as  wealth  and  modern  piety  went ;  but  the 
intellectual  battery  they  have  brought  to  bear  upon  our 
little  craft,  has  not  been  calculated  to  disturb  our  equan- 
imity. Both  parties  are  evidently  members  of  the  great 
conservative  and  commercial  society  of  medical  and  re- 
ligious antiquaries  ;  their  animal  heat  has  been  so  long 
chilled  by  inflating  their  medical  and  religious  stocks, 
that  it  fairly  admits  of  a  doubt  if  they  have  not  pro- 
duced a  new  or  white-blooded  species  of  humanity. 
Indeed,  we  have  long  suspected  many  of  them  to  be 
partially  fossilized  by  the  ancient  learning  and  morality 
with  which  their  leaders  have  so  long  saturated  them. 
Their  remains  will  doubtless  some  day  be  found,  like 
the  fossil  tortoises  and  other  reptiles  of  the  genus,  imbed- 
ded in  the  earthy  debris  of  an  effete  morality.  Whilst 
our  friends  are  engaged  in  selling  the  small  wares  of 
humanity  to  their  awe-stricken  admirers,  let  us  be  con- 
tent to  assist  in  clearing  the  forest  and  letting  in  the 
light  of  nature  upon  those  outside  barbarians,  who  believe 
that  there  is  some  truth  and  dignity  in  the  heart's 
impulse  and  in  nature's  laws.  In  short,  we  wish  to 
address  our  long-suffering  and  indulgent  readers. 

But  badinage  apart ;  we  started  to  make  some  confes- 
sions to  the  reader,  not  because  we  desire  to  obtrude 
ourselves  upon  him  in  an  increased  dose,  but  simply  to 
explain  the  charge  of  eccentricity  which  is  chalked  up 


PROFESSIONAL  TURNERS.  19 

against  us  by  every  medical  teetotem,  diplomaed  and 
turned  out  by  the  professorial  turners,  at  their  college 
turning  shops,  like  tops  for  the  children's  bazaars  ;  to  be 
whipped  round  and  round  in  the  great  civic  nursery  of 
commercial  snobdom  by  doting  mammas,  and  then  kicked 
into  a  corner  for  some  freshly  imported  apothecary,  or 
ci-devant  gentleman's  valet,  who  has  either  bought  or 
stolen  his  master's  coat  and  diploma,  and  rushed  to  the 
great  American  Alsatia  to  try  for  a  rich  wife,  or  to  earn 
a  cropped  head,  a  striped  jacket,  and  a  degree  at  Uncle 
Sam's  great  college  on  the  banks  of  the  Hudson — honors 
which  are  richly  merited  by  a  vast  number  of  foreign 
medical  adventurers  who  carry  themselves  with  high 
heads  in  our  good-natured  metropolis. 

It  was  not,  however,  in  consequence  of  the  venality  of 
colleges  in  selling  their  diplomas  to  the  incompetent,  nor 
yet  the  national  predilection  for  foreign  quacks  and  vaga- 
bonds, that  originated  this  journal.  It  is  true  such 
circumstances  were  rather  depressing  to  an  aspiring 
youth,  depending  solely  upon  a  profession,  and  about  to 
offer  his  abilities  in  his  native  city,  where,  with  three 
preceding  generations,  he  could  claim  two  hundred  years 
of  nativity.  "  A  prophet  has  no  honor  in  his  own  coun- 
try," but  we  never  offered  to  prophesy ;  had  we  really 
done  so,  from  the  now  humiliating  extent  of  superstition, 
we  would  have  anticipated  the  public  taste  and  gained 
money  by  frightening  their  souls,  if  our  fellow-citizens 
would  not  allow  us  to  cure  their  bodies.  For  this,  how- 
ever, we  never  had  a  penchant.  Standing  upon  the  shore 
of  time,  with  the  same  brittle  thread  of  life,  and  with  all 
the  affections  common  to  our  fellow-creatures,  our  per- 
haps stolid  moral  conformation,  shared  none  of  those 
exciting  fancies  of  looking  into  the  future.  We  were 
content  to  believe  it  simply  unreasonable  to  suppose  we 


20  A  MEDICAL  "ATTENDANT." 

should  enjoy  a  happy  future,  if  we  prepared  our  appre- 
ciative nature  by  the  practice  of  dishonesty  during  our 
present  existence.  With  such  sentiments,  as  we  have 
somewhere  before  told  our  reader,  we  lettered  "  our  shin- 
gle" with  our  own  hand,  and  stuck  it  up  in  the  front 
window  of  a  "  very  respectable  house  "  in  Bleecker  street, 
some  twenty-three  years  ago. 

We  have  chosen  to  present  some  of  the  events  that 
constituted  our  professional  experience  during  the  past 
thirty  years,  under  various  guises,  in  our  pages — some- 
times quaintly,  sometimes  seriously,  as  we  felt  in  the 
mood.  On  one  occasion,  we  perceive  we  chose  to  appear 
as  an  entrapped  fox,  listening  to  our  youthful  brethren 
outside,  whilst  we  were  awaiting  the  morning  and  our 
captors.  This,  and  much  other  nonsense  we  have  been 
obliged  to  commit,  in  order  to  entrap  the  reader  into  an 
interest  in  the  more  didactic  part  of  our  pages.  At  pres- 
ent, we  feel  in  a  philosophical  mood,  and  inclined  to 
speculate  upon  the  extraordinary  apathy,  and  the  still 
more  extraordinary  method  chosen  by  our  people,  in 
selecting  their  medical  attendants — we  were  about  to  say 
advisers,  but  the  term  is  simply  ridiculous,  as  claimed  by 
our  brethren  ;  our  countrymen  never  take  advice ;  they 
"  hire,"  or  "  employ "  a  "  medical  attendant,"  and  too 
often  treat  him  with  the  same  degree  of  respect  they  do 
their  hired  waiter  or  their  barber.  We  had,  during  our 
pupilage,  very  extraordinary  opportunities  of  observing 
the  estimate  and  importance  of  manner  and  temperament 
upon  those  who  seek  medical  and  surgical  advice.  Dr. 
F s  was  an  example  of  great  benevolence,  and  -im- 
mense excitability,  and  love  of  literary  admiration, 
combined  with   a  keen    sense  of   the   ridiculous.     Dr. 

B e  was  bold,  brilliant,  and  horribly  overbearing  and 

insolent ;  and  Dr.  M 1  had  but  one  ruling  passion,  the 


AN  OFFICE  MENAGERIE.  21 

love  of  money,  and  a  heart-felt  conviction  of  the  supreme- 
ly glorious  position  of  surgery,  and  the  unapproachable 
glories  of  tying  the  iliac  and  innominata ;  for  him,  the 
human  body  was  an  arterial  machine,  created  to  have  its 
arteries  tied  and  its  legs  cut  off.  We  will  give  the  reader 
a  few  illustrations  of  each  as  we  proceed  with  our 
sketches  in  future  numbers.      » 

Amongst  the  students  who  nocked  to  the  office  of  the 
two  former  gentlemen,  there  was  every  variety  of  the 
genus,  from  the  childish  and  good-natured  young  gosling, 
whose  highest  ambition  was  to  be  perfect  in  the  scientific 
nomenclature  of  the  Materia  Medica,  to  the  distressed 
investigator  of  the  holes  and  processes  of  the  sphenoid 
bone  ;  some  were  lean  and  some  fat ;  we  had  spongers, 
borrowers  and  loafers,  musicians,  litterateurs,  dunder- 
heads, and  rascals.     Dr.  B e  used  to  say  that  he  never 

saw  a  more  unclassifiable  assemblage  even  in  that  city  of 
contradictions  in  humanity — Dublin  itself.  Feeling  the 
responsibility  of  my  chosen  profession,  (for  I  was  then  in 
quite  active  obstetrical  practice  amongst  that  trying  peo- 
ple the  low  Irish,)  I  used  to  speculate  sagely  upon  the 
possibility  of  this  or  that  student  ever  being  able  to 
secure  confidence,  and  get  his  bread  from  the  community. 
There  was  such  an  ocean  of  difference  between  some  of 
them,  and  between  all  of  them  and  myself,  that  I  used 
sagely  to  conclude  that,  if  the  most  wonderful  of  them 
succeeded,  I  was  sure  to  starve  ;  and  I  often  contemplated 
the  probability  of  my  testing  practically  the  great  physio- 
logical problem  of  the  minimum  amount  of  nutriment 

that  would  maintain  vitality  in  my  body.     Dr.  F s 

used  to  speculate  upon  me  awfully  over  his  gold  specta- 
cles, although  he  took  to  our  formal  evening  examinations 
very  much  as  I  suppose  the  chafed  buffalo  draws  up  and 
presents  his  front  to  the  hunters  ;  he  could  not  make  me 


22  A  DIPLOMA  SHOP. 

out,  I  know ;  I  was  certain  that,  if  he  had  "  discovered 
my  stops,"  he  would  never  have  attempted  to  instruct  me 
in  the  Materia  Medica.  I  always  thought  a  drug-shop 
the  most  preposterously  ludicrous  thing  on  earth,  and 
wondered  how  it  was  possible  for  a  doctor  to  sit  down 
and  write  a  recipe  without  laughing  in  his  patient's  face. 
I  got  on,  however,  without  disgrace  even  in  that  ludic- 
rous department,  and  bestowed  most  of  my  time  on 
Anatomy.  I  felt  that  if  I  ever  could  practice  my  profes- 
sion it  must  be  surgery  alone,  for  I  never  could  have  the 
face  to  give  people  physic  to  cure  their  diseases,  when 
they  were  either  destitute  of  proper  shelter  and  food,  or 
oppressed  with  gluttony  and  lived  in  unventilated 
houses. 

Most  of  my  time  was  devoted  to  the  study  of  my  pre- 
ceptors and  the  students.  There  was  one  pupil  who  gave 
me  a  new  insight  into  the  human  character.  He  was 
both  intellectually  and  physically  of  a  very  low  order  of 
the  genus  ;  bearing  in  his  face  unmistakable  evidence  of 
his  devotion  to  sensual  pleasures,  in  the  loss  of  the  bridge 
of  his  nose,  and  evincing  by  his  desire  to  trade  his  newly 
acquired  talents  for  quarters,  or  even  sixpences,  his 
intellectual  beginnings  at  home.  Low  and  base  as  he 
was,  it  was  only  a  phase  of  the  same  spirit  that  actuates 
a  large  proportion  of  our  college  graduates  ;  so  I  see  no 
reason  why  he  should  not  be  made  the  medium  for  the 
exposition  of  the  infernal  results  of  the  wretched  system 
of  diploma  huckstering ;  he  had  the  same  right  to  sell 
what  he  had  dishonestly  obtained,  as  his  examiners  had 
to  sell  him  their  diploma,  and  the  sin  must  lie  at  their 
door  of  all  the  murders  he  committed.  ' 

Our  specimen  had  filled  the  position  of  a  Yankee  school- 
master, and  much  as  he  was  despised,  he  occasionally 
made  it  appear  to  some  inferior  student,  that  he  was  by 


CRIBS,   TEA-KETTLES  AND   CORN-BASKETS.  23 

no  means  inclined  to  admit  his  intellectual  inferiority  in 
argument.  He  made  hay  of  the  English  language,  and 
he  used  to  get  wof ully  befogged  with  his  anatomy.  Find- 
ing it  rather  too  expensive  to  meddle  "with  the  demon- 
strative part  of  that  science,  I  was  occasionally  honored  by 
his  presence  at  an  anatomical  demonstration  in  my  room, 
where  he  would  try,  as  his  nose  obliged  him  to  express 
it,  "  to  pick  up  a  little  sutthick  " — meaning  something  in 
the  way  of  a  knowledge  of  anatomical  structure.  I  used 
to  endure  his  presence  as  well  as  I  could,  and  swallowed 
the  annoyance  with  tolerable  submission,  unless  he  began 
to  ask  questions  through  that  nose  of  his,  when  I  could 
stand  it  no  longer,  and  would  rush  out  convulsively,  and 
lock  the  door,  pretending  a  suddenly  remembered  en- 
gagement. 

I  knew  nothing  of  his  mode  of  subsistence  till  one  day, 
on  occasion  of  a  sudden  illness,  he  sent  for  me  to  see  him 
at  his  boarding  house,  when  the  riddle  was  solved,  and 
for  the  first  time  I  was  made  to  understand  the  full 
extent  of  the  trading  propensity  on  a  low  intellect. 
Observing  a  number  of  articles  of  a  character  rather 
incongruous  to  a  medical  student's  lodging  room,  I  for- 
bore to  make  any  impertinent  inquiries,  though  I  was 
really  curious  to  know  what  use  he  could  put  them  to. 
A  copper  tea-kettle,  a  child's  crib,  and  three  new  market 
baskets !  The  latter  articles  at  length  overcame  my  good 
breeding,  and  with  a  little  astonishment  I  took  up  one  of 
the  baskets  and  inquired,  possibly  with  some  slight 
expletive,  what  use  he  could  put  them  to.  My  question 
evidently  annoyed  him,  and  upon  its  repetition  he  got  so 
far  nettled  as  to  let  out  upon  me  for  what  he  was  pleased 
to  call  "  my  infernal  pride,"  assuring  me,  by  way  of  a  flat- 
tering apology,  I  suppose,  that  "  talent  was  not  all  a  man 
required,  to  get  a  living  by  the  profession,"  and  that  he 
2 


24  the  "practice"  and  the  "fee 


M 


could  teach  me  a  thing  or  two  that  would  do  me  good  as 
long  as  I  lived.  I  apologized  immediately,  as  I  saw  it 
would  be  the  most  likely  way  to  attain  a  knowledge  of  the 
sources  of  the  heterodox  articles  in  question,  and  assured 
him  that  I  was  very  far  from  under-estimating  his  busi- 
ness tact  and  capacity  for  "  getting  along  ;"  he  was 
evidently  pleased,  and  became  quite  talkative.  He  assured 
me  that  he  thought  a  certain  knowledge  of  anatomy  and 
chemistry  well  enough  for  those  who  had  time  and 
money  to  acquire  it,  but  that  he  was  convinced  of  the 
superior  value  of  "the  practice.''  "No  longer  ago  than 
last  week,"  said  he  triumphantly,  "  I  bled  a  man  three 
times  for  rheumatism,  and  relieved  him  so  that  his  hid- 
den disease  declared  itself  in  the  form  of  a  legitimate 
fever  and  ague."  I  expressed  my  astonishment  at  the 
decision  of  the  practice,  and  innocently  inquired  where 
the  patient  lived?  The  reply  was  sufficiently  indicative 
of  the  extent  of  his  knowledge  of  physiology,  and  the 
depth  of  his  therapeia.  He  said  his  patient,  a  poor  negro 
basket  maker,  lived  in  a  cellar  kitchen !  He  had  bled  the 
poor  creature  into  an  attack  of  ague,  and  received  the 
three  corn  baskets  for  the  exploit.  The  child's  crib  was 
obtained  of  a  cabinet  maker  in  the  more  excusable  man- 
ner of  an  obstetric  fee.  On  the  tea-kettle  I  could  get  no 
light ;  he  always  fought  me  shy  on  that  ;  probably  it  was 
the  hoarded  household  souvenir  of  some  poor  woman, 
and  my  fellow-student  had  some  very  distant  misgivings 
of  the  unmanliness  of  receiving  it. 

This  trading  student  was  an  extreme  case,  I  admit ; 
but  he  served  an  excellent  purpose  in  my  mental  alembic 
as  a  comparison.  In  what  respect  did  he  differ  from  the 
man  who  visits  day  after  day  somo  unfortunate  creature 
of  the  wealthier  rank  of  society,  smitten  with  selfishness 
and  indolence,  with  every  sensitive  function  warped  and 


ETHICS   OF  THE  DIPLOMA  HUCKSTEES.  25 

turned  aside  by  gluttony  or  hysterics?  "Which  of  the 
two  fills  the  most  dignified  position?  Nay,  which  is  the 
most  honest?  he  who  robs  the  negro  of  his  thin  and 
watery  blood,  and  drives  him  into  an  ague  for  three  corn 
baskets,  or  he  who  continues  day  after  day  to  administer 
his  wretched  potions  when  nature  demands  wholesome 
food,  vitalizing  exercise,  and  the  consequent  expansion  of 
the  lungs  and  the  affections  into  a  wholesome  and  manly 
forgetfulness  of  self  ?  Who  can  strike  the  line  of  respect- 
ability between  the  two  ?  One  sells  diplomas,  and  absurd 
and  antiquated  theories  to  an  idle  and  roguish  school- 
master ;  and  the  other  trades  his  roguery  and  ignorance 
for  cribs,  tea-kettles,  and  corn  baskets ! 


SCENES  IN  WESTERN  PRACTICE. 


FROST  FOLIAGE  PAINTED  BT  MOONLIGHT— THE  MERCY  ANGELS — CHILD  MESSEN- 
GER—THE   WEDDING-RING    FEE— A    MIDNIGHT    RIDE— ARE    THEY    HUNGRY    IN 

HEAVEN?— THE     DAUGHTER     OP    A    CITY    MERCHANT— THE     FIRE     KING THE 

GOLDEN  AND  THE  SILVER  RULE— ADVERSITY  AND  LABOR  THE  SOUL-ELEVATORS 
— DEATH  THE  GREAT  PURIFIER-^THE  CLERICAL  SPECULATOR— MORALITY  AND 
MAMMON— CITY  AND  COUNTRY  CORRUPTION — GRAIN  SPECULATION;  AWFUL 
CONSEQUENCES  ON  MORALS— THE  MIDNIGHT  VISIT  OF  THE  ANGELS  TO  THE 
GREAT  CITY— ITS  CONDITION— THE  CHILD  THIEF— THE  ANGEL'S  BLESSING- 
DEATH  OF  THE  MERCHANT'S  DAUGHTER^ 

Strange—"  that  virtue  and  work  should  be  so  cheap, 
And  bread  should  be  so  dear." 

The  bright  frost-sparks  were  on  the  trees  in  the  forest, 
and  when  the  moon,  with  her  mild  torch,  lighted  them 
up,  they  glittered  like  so  many  fairy  diamonds  ;  they 
glowed  with  light  and  lustre,  changing  from  sparks  of 
light  to  blue  and  green  gems;  and  all  the  air  flickered 
with  these  specks  of  frost,  painted  into  diadems  by  the 
rich,  soft  moonlight.  There  is  nothing  so  beautiful  in 
all  nature  as  one  of  these  evenings;  the  air  is  so  still  that 
if  the  soul  listens,  it  cannot  shut  out  the  angels'  whispers 
that  come  to  us  mingled  with  music  that  cannot  be 
printed.  Angels  never  speak  when  the  sun  shines, 
nor  when  the  white  robe  of  winter  has  folded  all 
nature  into  its  pure  mantle;  no,  they  only  come  when 
the  moon  shines  in  late  autumn,  when  the  nights  are 


SPIRIT  VOICES.  27 

clear  and  the  air  keen,  and  the  frost  sparkles  with 
cold.  Then  all  earnest  souls  can  hear  them.  They 
do  not  address  the*  ear  ;  they  speak  to  the  spirit,  and 
fill  it  with  love  and  harmony,  with  mercy  and  bless- 
ings. 

Spring,  with  its  flowers  and  birds,  had  passed,  and  scat- 
tered its  smiling  glances  on  all  the  works  of  God.  Sum- 
mer had  succeeded,  and  ripened  the  fruit,  and  dressed 
up  the  year  with  a  full-lapped  bounty;  and  then  had 
come  one  of  the  frost-nights,  mingled  with  moon-fire — 
the  nights  on  which  the  mercy-angels  are  abroad  on 
errands  of  goodness. 

I  had  sat  a  long  time  in  my  window,  watching  the 
white  fleecy  clouds  that  floated  over  the  deep-blue  sky. 
They  were  brilliant  with  reflected  light,  and  as  gaudy  as 
the  royal  diamond-spangled  robe  of  some  Eastern  queen. 
I  went  to  the  window,  and  returned  to  my  library,  and 
then  went  again,  with  uncovered  head,  into  the  bound- 
less sea  of  mystic  cold  and  light,  and  listened  to  the 
seraph  voices,  (I  listen  with  my  spirit,)  and  then  re- 
turned again  to  my  warm  room,  to  enjoy  the  delightful 
contrast  between  bathing  my  body  in  dead  heat,  and 
plunging  my  living  spirit  into  the  fathomless  sea  of  glit- 
tering light. 

Why  I  could  not  sleep  I  know  not;  but  I  could  not. 
I  was  too  happy;  I  felt  a  serenity  that  spoke  of  mercy, 
of  some  good  to  be  done;  some  suffering  spirit,  that 
needed  the  hus*h  of  a  last  blessing,  was  speaking  to  me, 
and  seemed  to  say:  "  Can  you  not  watch  one  short  hour, 
when  I  have  not  slept  for  two  long  nights,  and  shall 
never  sleep  again  till  I  awake  into  everlasting  life? 
Know  you  not  that  Love  darts  her  message  into  the  hu- 
man heart  through  space,  over  seas,  mountains  and 
plains?   and  when  sorrow  pleads  for  mercy  the  spirit 


28  THE   CHILD  MESSENGER. 

hears  it — it  hears  it  just  as  a  merciful  God  hears  our 
prayers  and  listens  to  our  wants  ?" 

My  soul  was  so  full  of  thought  and  blessings,  that  I 
was  in  a  sea  of  thankfulness  and  joy,  when  I  was  roused 
by  the  patter  of  two  little  feet  on  the  door-stone.  I  knew 
it  was  a  child's  step,  it  was  so  soft,  and  yet  so  confident ; 
a  child's  step  has  no  fear  in  it — the  innocent  have  no 
fear.  A  faint  rap  fell  on  the  door  ;  it  was  a  soft  rap, 
for  her  little  hand  was  covered  with  a  mitten  to  keep  the 
frost-diamonds  from  biting  it.  The  frost  has  no  feeling 
for  little  hands  ;  it  only  loves  to  shine  and  sparkle,  and 
sparkle  and  shine,  before  the  warm  sun  shall  come  and 
spoil  its  beauty  and  power  to  harm.  I  opened  the  door, 
and  in  stepped  little  Julia,  muffled  in  a  shawl,  and 
mittens,  and  hood ;  and  her  shoes  were  stiff  with  cold, 
and  they  creaked  on  the  floor,  and  her  face  was  all  cov- 
ered with  love,  and  looked  very  bright,  and  the  still  tear 
stood  in  her  eye,  and  she  could  not  speak. 

"  Oh,  Julia !"  said  I,  "  are  you  not  cold,  child  ?  and  why 
is  my  darling  out  alone  ?" 

"It  is  so  light,  sir,  that  I  could  come  easily  without 
being  lost." 

"  I  know  it  is  light,  but  it  is  very  cold ;  you  came 
alone,  did  you  not  ?" 

"  Oh  yes,  sir,  Mr.  Doctor,  I  came  alone,  but  I  was  not 
afraid,  nor  cold  any ;"  and  her  bright-red  lip  trembled, 
and  she  could  not  speak  ;  and  on  her  cheek  the  frost  had 
painted  a  full,  red  blush,  and  the  skin  was  white  as  the 
snow-flake.  She  looked  very  beautiful,  and  her  heart 
was  full,  too  full  to  tell  me  more. 

"  And  you  were  not  afraid,  you  said,  and  you  are  only 
nine  years  old,  I  think,  and  have  come  three  miles,  in  the 
night,  too,  all  alone— did  you  come  to  see  me,  Miss 
Julia?" 


THE  WEDDING-RING  FEE.  29 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Doctor  ;  my  mother  is  very  sick,  and  I  came 
to  get  you  to  cure  her,  and  she  said  God  protected  all 
good  children,  and  then  she  seemed  to  be  with  me  all  the 
way,  and  I  was  not  afraid ;"  and  here  the  dear  child 
burst  into  tears. 

I  was  very  busy  warming  the  child,  for  I  was  enchanted 
and  bewildered  by  the  fidelity  and  confidence  of  the 
charming  little  girl ;  I  had  often  seen  her  light  form 
tripping  along  the  highway  to  school,  her  blue  eyes  as 
mild  as  a  summer  dew-drop  ;  now  she  lifted  toward  me 
something  that  glittered,  and  said,  in  her  sweet,  low 
voice,  "  Please  will  you  go  and  see  my  mother,  to-night, 
Mr.  Doctor  ?  She  sent  you  this  gold  ring — she  had  no 
money — and  she  cried  when  she  gave  it  to  me,  and  said 
it  was  one  my  dear  papa  gave  her  when  they  were  mar- 
ried in  New  York  city,  and  she  wanted  to  keep  it  for  me, 
but  she  will  give  it  to  you,  sir,  if  you  will  come  and  see 
her  to-night ;  she  is  afraid  she  will  die  before  to-morrow, 
and  then  she  cannot  tell  you  what  she  wants  to  ;  and  she 
is  all  alone,  too,  only  a  little  girl,  Katy  Wharton,  came 
over  to  stay  with  her  while  I  came  after  you  ;  so  please 
do  go  and  see  my  dear  mother  to-night,  good  Mr. 
Doctor." 

The  fervent  love  and  artless  simplicity  of  the  child  had 
so  overcome  me,  that  I  had  prepared  myself  to  start, 
unconsciously.  My  wife  had  risen  from  her  slumber,  and 
was  listening  to  the  story  of  the  child,  and  when  I 
returned  to  the  gate  with  my  robes  and  cutter,  I  found 
little  Julia  and  my  good  wife  waiting  to  accompany  mc. 
Folding  them  closely  in  my  thick,  warm  robes,  I  drove 
rapidly  over  the  ground  ;  a  slight  snow  had  fallen,  and 
covered  the  dark-brown  earth.  My  residence  was  near  a 
close  wood,  and  my  track  to  the  dwelling  of  the  sick  wo- 
man led  me  through  a  thickly  settled  part  of  the  large 


30  A  MIDNIGHT  HIDE. 

and  flourishing  village  of  A .     The  house  was  small, 

and  forbidding  in  its  exterior,  and  when  we  reached  the 
gate,  little  Julia  bounded  from  the  sleigh  with  the  elastic 
step  of  a  voting  fawn,  glided  across  the  yard,  and  entered 
the  house  in  advance  of  us,  and,  rushing  to  the  bedside, 
she  held  up  the  ring  and  cried  for  joy,  as  her  tiny  arm 
clasped  her  sick  mother's  neck,  while  she  covered  her 
pale  cheek  with  fervent  kisses.  "  Dear  mother,"  she  said, 
in  a  soft,  low  voice,  "  don't  cry  now,  ,n or  cough  any  more, 
for  the  good  doctor  has  come  now,  and  the  lady  has  come 
too,  to  help  me  take  care  of  you  ;"  and  she  ran  to  the 
table  to  bring  some  drink  for  which  her  mother  had 
motioned. 

Myself  and  companion  stood  by  the  bedside  of  a  sick 
and  dying  woman,  who  had  been  nursed  in  the  haDs  of 
luxury  and  pride,  and  whose  parents  had  taught  her  to 
love  self  and  forget  all  else  in  the  world  beside. 

Come  into  the  apartment,  gentle  reader,  and  see  where 
the  daughter  of  the  rich  and  proud  sometimes  ends  her 
days.  A  small  room,  with  scanty  furniture,  some  poor, 
and  a  part  of  it  very  rich,  the  broken  fragments  of  a 
splendid  outfit,  given  her  by  her  father  when  she  left  New 
York  for  her  home  in  the  West. 

The  whole  scene  was  really  comfortless,  although  the 
hand  of  taste  and  pride  had  evidently  tried  in  vain  to 
hide  the  real  facts  by  great  tact  in  arrangement,  and  per- 
fect neatness  throughout  the  room.  The  address  of  the 
lady  at  once  marked  her  as  one  who  had  been  bred  in  a 
far  higher  circle  of  life  than  she  now  occupied,  for  she 
saluted  us  with  that  dignified  simplicity  that  always  char- 
acterizes the  woman  of  good  breeding.  Our  first  duty 
was  to  provide  for  her  comfort,  and  then  receive  her 
bequests,  for  she  was  rapidly  drawing  toward  the  close 
of  her  weary  pilgrimage. 


ARE  THEY  HUNGRY  IN  HEAVEN?  31 

My  wife  had  arranged  her  couch  anew  ;  her  cough  had 
been  quieted  by  a  soothing  draught,  and  she  lay  resting 
her  failing  body,  gathering  strength  for  this  last  conflict 
with  her  fate,  when  little  Julia  rushed  up  to  the  bedside 
and  asked,  in  a  very  earnest  tone,  "Dear  mother,  do 
Isaiah,  and  David,  and  Joseph  have  to  go  to  a  public 
soup-house  in  heaven  to  get  something  to  eat?  or  do 
they  have  bread  enough  in  heaven,  mother  ?"  "  My 
strange  child,"  said  the  dying  mother,  "  why  do  you  ask 
me  that  ?"  "  Oh,  you  know  the  other  day,  when  we  were 
so  hungry,  you  made  me  read  to  you  in  the  Bible  that 
'  God  hears  the  ravens  cry,'  and  then  you  sent  me  down 
to  the  store  for  a  little  flour,  and  when  he  sent  me  back 
because  I  had  no  money,  and  you  cried  so,  I  kept  think- 
ing about  the  famine  in  Samaria,  and  how  Joseph's 
brethren  went  down  into  Egypt  to  buy  corn,  and  Joseph 
wept  when  he  saw  them,  and  gave  them  something  to 
eat ;  and  I  knew,  because  you  said  so,  that  even  some 
good  people  now  could  not  get  bread  to  eat  because  it 
costs  so  much,  and  you  said  they  had  to  go  to  soup- 
houses  to  be  fed,  and  beautiful  fine  ladies  had  to  go  there 
in  the  great  city  of  New  York  last  year,  and  I  wondered 
if  people  were  ever  hungry  in  heaven."  The  poor  child 
relieved  herself  of  all  this  with  great  earnestness. 

A  deep  crimson  flush  overspread  the  face  of  the  poor 
mother,  and  her  eye  glanced  wildly  at  the  face  of  my 
wife,  as  she  said  to  the  child ;  "  No,  my  dear,  children 
are  not  hungry  there  ;  but  you  must  not  talk  so 
strangely." 

Great  God !  what  thoughts  rushed  across  my  soul  at 
this  strange  scene !  Have  we  become  a  race  of  demons, 
thought  I,  and  do  children  begin  to  doubt  the  justice  of 
God? 

A  sudden  silence  seized  the   group,  and  through  my 


32  THE  DAUGHTER  OF  A  CITY  MERCHANT. 

soul  rushed  whole  years  of  anguish.  Children  starving 
in  a  land  of  bread ! — mothers,  nursed  in  pride  and  lux- 
ury, brought  to  feel  the  bony  finger  of  Want,  and  grapple, 
on  a  dying-bed,  with  pale  Famine's  icy  touch!  What, 
thought  I,  shall  I  hear  next?  Surely  something  heart- 
breaking has  preceded  such  a  train  of  thought  in  the 
mind  of  this  child  And  who  can  this  sick  lady  be, 
inquires  the  reader,  and  where  did  she  come  from,  and 
whose  daughter  was  she,  and  had  she  any  mother  alive  ; 
or  was  she  some  poor  outcast — one  of  those  whom 
God  almost  forgets  to  comfort?  She  was  none  of 
these. 

Mary  E was  the  daughter  of  a  rich  merchant  in 

New  York  city.  About  twenty  years  before  I  was  called 
to  see  her,  she  was  seated  in  a  gorgeous  jiarlor,  sur- 
rounded by  splendid  mirrors,  playing  on  her  piano,  and 
courted  by  rich  suitors,  and  flattered  by  a  poet's  love. 
The  world  may  not  know  it,  but  the  Western  physician 
does,  that  among  the  surging  tide  of  wealth  and  home- 
hunting  life  that  swells  across  the  great  lakes,  and  spreads 
across  the  prairies  of  the  West,  even  to  the  shores  of  the 
Pacific,  there  are  a  smaller  number  of  emigrants  that 
swarm  out  from  the  houses  of  the  merchant  princes  of 
our  great  commercial  metropolis.  The  place  is  too  strait 
for  them,  and  luxury,  vice,  and  indolence  have  enervated 
them  too  much  to  enable  them  to  buffet  the  rude  breakers 
of  Western  life.  These  sons,  from  the  euchre  tables,  and 
drinking  saloons,  and  club  houses  of  that  refined  and 
Christian  city,  are  married  to  the  highest  bidder  who  has 
cash  to  give  with  his  daughter  ;  and  the  young  pair  are 
shipped  west  with  bales  of  goods  and  boxes  of  merchan- 
dise, to  become  the  aristocracy  of  the  villages  and  cities 
of  the  West.  While  the  West  is  thus  peopled  with  these 
ribbon  men  and  women  from  the  commercial  capital,  the 


THE  FIRE  TEMPEST.  33 

hardy  sons  of  toil  and  exertion  flow  back  from  the  farm 
and  places  of  toil,  to  fill  the  places  of  clerks  in  the  great 
city's  trading-houses,  and  become  the  future  merchants 
of  that  vast  Babel  of  trade. 

Among  these  adventurers,  in  the  year  '34,  was  a  young 
merchant  of  much  promise,  who  ranked  much  higher 
than  the  average  of  this  class  of  men.  He  had  become 
the  husband  of  the  accomplished  Miss  E .  The  dot- 
ing parents  had  dismissed  them  with  their  blessing  and 
a  stock  of  goods,  and  they  had  taken  up  their  residence 
in  the  village  of  F ,  where  a  year  or  more  of  pros- 
perity had  placed  them  at  the  head  of  the  village  aris- 
tocracy. 

But  Fortune  has  her  changes,  and  rolls  her  mad  waves 
over  the  hopeful  and  the  stout-hearted.  One  of  those 
tempests  of  fire,  that  a  just  God  rains  on  cities,  as  he  did 
on  Sodom  for  her  sins,  came  upon  New  York  ;  and  on  a 
cold  night  in  December,  the  red  tongue  of  the  fire-temp- 
est lapped  up  the  heart  of  the  city,  and  scattered  her 
proud  merchants  as  beggars  in  the  streets. 

The  man  of  millions,  in  a  single  night,  found  himself 
without  the  means  of  a  breakfast ;  the  family  that  dwelt 
in  a  palace,  were  houseless  and  naked  ;  the  mothers  who 
who  toiled  for  their  daily  bread,  were  rich  as  the  rich- 
est. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  strange  scene  that  was  pre- 
sented in  the  capital,  for  the  whole  state  suffered ;  so 
wide-spread  was  the  desolation,  that  none  could  measure 
it ;  but  every  heart  was  touched  with  pity  for  the  home- 
less and  the  breadless. 

The  night  was  intensely  cold  ;  the  water  froze  in  the 
hydrants,  and  the  devouring  element  rioted  unrebuked 
on  the  labors  and  the  hopes  of  men.  The  sun  rose  in 
the  east  on  a  sea  of  smouldering  ruins  ;  all  night  had 


34  THE  GOLDEN  AND  SILVER  RULE. 

mothers  mourned  and  wept,  and  when  daylight  came, 
fathers  of  stony  hearts,  that  never  prayed  before,  prayed 
then,  "  Give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread." 

So  wide  was  the  desolation,  that  no  one  could  see  its 
fchore,  and  thinking  men  rushed  up  to  the  capital,  to  ask 
the  loan  of  a  million  of  dollars,  to  blunt  for  a  little  time 
the  sea  of  suffering  that  none  could  really  fathom.  I  saw 
the  whole  struggle,  and  heard  the  prayers  of  the  suf- 
ferers, and  the  proud  buffetings  of  those  who  held  the 
purse-strings. 

Men  implored  for  the  love  of  God,  and  the  tears  of 
suffering  and  helpless  women  and  children,  that  aid 
which  the  State  alone  could  give.  They  repeated  the 
golden  rule,  and  wept  hot  tears  of  suffering,  for  the  fire 
had  painted  with  red  flame  a  soft  spot  for  once  in  the 
heart  of  the  gold  princes.  They  knew  that  men  could 
suffer ;  they  had  seen  their  own  wives  and  daughters 
clinging  to  them  in  despair,  asking  where  they  should 
sleep  and  eat.  And  the  pitiless  politician  now  spoke 
with  a  tongue  of  fire,  and  repeated  those  golden  words, 
"  Do  unto  others  as  you  would  that  others  should  do  unto 
you,"  and  wept  for  aid ;  but  those  words  sounded  as 
strangely  as  the  song  of  a  seraph  chanted  in  the  halls  of 
Bedlam.  "Now,"  said  the  wily  wire-worker,  "is  the 
time  to  punish  New  York.  She  has  refused  us  all  suc- 
cor at  the  "West,  she  has  no  heart ;  when  the  flame  has 
died  from  her  ruins,  a  heart  of  ice  will  again  beat  in  her 
bosom ;  show  her  no  mercy,  for  she  deserves  none. 
Give  her  the  silver  rule — she  repeats  the  golden  one,  but 
will  never  live  by  it." 

Such  was  actually  the  language  that  fell  from  the  lips 
of  Christian  men,  stung  by  the  demon  of  a  golden  selfish- 
ness. Said  one,  "  I  will  vote  to  relieve  this  cry  for  mercy, 
but  the  words  stick  in  my  throat — so  much  selfishness 


THE  SACBTFICE  OF  LOVE.  35 

deserves  no  pity."  The  boon  was  granted,  and  the  tried 
and  suffering  city  drew  one  long  breath  of  love  and  grati- 
tude to  the  bounty  of  the  State.  Reader,  we  must  now 
return  to  the  bedside  of  our  sick  patient,  prepared  to 
understand  who  she  was  and  the  cause  of  her  condition. 
She  was  the  daughter  of  a  wealthy  merchant,  who  lost 
his  last  dollar  in  the  huge  fire  of  '35  ;  he  saw  the  labor 
of  a  long  life  swept  from  him  in  an  hour,  and  the  hope  of 
his  family  went  down  in  that  whirlpool  of  fire. 

His  son-in-law  had  a  few  thousands  in  his  Western 
home,  but  an  inexorable  necessity  compelled  him  to  recall 
the  whole.  Beggary  stared  him  in  the  face,  and  he  in- 
formed his  daughter  of  his  fate  and  asked  for  aid, 
and  with  the  noble  impulse  that  ever  guides  the  great- 
hearted, full-souled  woman,  she  resolved  to  send  her 
father  all  to  save  him  from  want.  Their  business  had 
been  prosperous,  and  they  lived  in  the  first  sunshine  of  a 
gay  prosperity.  Her  husband  responded  with  as  full  a 
heart,  and  in  a  week  his  splendid  stock  of  goods  had  dis- 
appeared under  the  hammer,  and  the  cash  was  forwarded 
to  the  parents  in  New  York  ;  and  then  came  the  new  life, 
in  which  the  heart  grows  amid  the  rushing  of  wild  tem- 
pests, and  we  feel  that  life  has  a  dignity  in  it,  because  we 
have  humanity  in  our  hearts,  and  can  weep  with  those 
that  weep,  and  rejoice  with  those  that  rejoice. 

Our  patient  had  the  form  of  a  queen,  and  her  face  bore 
the  impress  of  nobleness  and  love.  Her  manners  would 
have  graced  the  hall  of  a  Hapsburgh  princess — no 
daughter  of  the  Tyrol  was  ever  more  lovely.  Her  hus- 
band was  a  man,  and  only  needed  the  rod  and  the 
scourge  to  make  him  shine.  He  sought  a  position  as  a 
clerk,  their  servants  were  dismissed,  and  she  resolved  to 
learn  the  art  of  managing  her  own  house.  She  could 
play  her  piano,  but  could  not  make  bread  for  her  hus- 


36  ADVERSITY   AND  LABOR 

band  and  her  child.  She  knew  not  how  to  wash  and  iron 
her  own  garments.  She  had  been  taught  that  to  do  so 
was  vulgar  ;  but  now  it  was  to  contribute  to  her  father's 
comfort,  and  send  joy  to  her  aged  mother's  heart,  it 
became  a  pleasure  and  a  joy. 

George  had  returned  one  morning  from  the  store,  and 
found  his  wife  weeping.  He  spoke  words  of  comfort  to 
her,  and  asked  her  the  cause.  She  responded,  in  a  tone 
of  firmness,  that  she  was  ashamed  of  her  education,  and 
had  resolved  to  learn  to  work  :  "I  will  know  how  to 
make  bread  for  my  husband  in  less  than  a  week." 
George  smiled  at  his  wife's  resolution,  and  a  shade  of 
sadness  passed  over  his  face.  Their  life's  morning  had 
opened  bright  and  cloudless  as  the  rays  of  the  early  dawn. 
One  year  of  life  had  been  all  sunshine;  now  they  were 
without  means,  his  store  closed,  his  fine  house  relin- 
quished; their  parents  were  aged  and  helpless  in  a  city 
where  the  wheels  of  fate  revolved  so  fast  and  so  rudely,  that 
the  stoutest  were  often  crushed  in  its  wild  whirl.  Their 
infant  smiled  in  its  wicker  cradle.  Mary  said  to  her  hus- 
band, "We  cannot  keep  servants,  and  you  and  our 
darling  may  starve,  for  aught  that  I  can  do  for  you — 
what  a  poor  creature  am  I !  why,  I  cannot  make  bread !" 
"When  the  husband  had  left  for  his  daily  business,  medita- 
ting on  the  change  in  their  condition,  Mary  started  for  the 
minister's  house,  and  frankly  told  her  friend  her  resolu- 
tion, for  all  knew  by  this  time  their  necessities. 

They  both  started  for  the  residence  of  Dr.  P ,  and  it 

was  soon  arranged  that  the  ladies  would  alternate  in  their 
visits,  and  aid  the  resolute  wife  in  acquiring  a  knowledge 
of  arranging  her  house,  setting  her  table,  and  cooking 
her  food.  In  a  few  weeks  she  had  acquired  considerable 
knowledge  of  the  duties  of  a  useful  wife.  She  now  knew 
the  joy  of  contributing  to  her  own  and   her  husband's 


THE   SOUL-ELEVATOBS.  37 

•wants,  and  no  'bread  was  ever  so  sweet  to  her  as  that 
which  Mary  set  before  her  husband — made  with  her  own 
hands.  But  a  year  passed,  and  her  parents  sunk  under 
the  heavy  stroke  of  disaster  ;  the  current  was  too  deep  ; 
it  bore  them  to  the  grave.  Now  more  than  ever  Mary 
felt  the  blessedness  of  her  good  deeds  to  her  parents, 
and  learned  that  to  be  useful  was  to  be  happy,  to  be  good 
was  to  be  like  the  angels. 

George  struggled  on  in  his  new  position  in  life.  Pride 
rose  up  and  mocked  him,  but  he  looked  it  steadily  in  the 
face,  till  his  manhood  outgrew  his  early  training  and  he 
learned  the  real  power  of  self-dependence.  But  woe  betide 
us  when  all  the  winds  blow  calamities  to  our  hearthstones ! 
George  was  seized  with  a  typhoid  inflammation  of  the 
lungs,  a  disease  that  sweeps  hundreds  of  stalwart  men  in 
miasmatic  districts  to  a  sudden  grave  ;  and  in  a  week  the 
noble  Mary  was  a  widow  and  Julia  an  orphan. 

She  thought  her  cup  was  full  before,  but  now  it  ran  over 
with  bitter  sorrow,  and  she  bowed  her  head  before  the  blast 
and  said  in  the  deep  faith  of  a  smitten  spirit,  "  Thy  will 
be  done,  O  God !"  The  black  hearse  came,  the  pall  cov- 
ered the  form  of  her  husband.  With  Julia  and  a  few 
humble  friends  she  followed  their  stay  and  support  to  the 
grave ;  the  last  hymn  broke  on  the  silent  air ;  the 
coffin  was  lowered;  the  earth  fell  heavily  on  the  lid  ; 
fainter  and  fainter  grew  the  sound,  and  a  long  earth- 
mound  covered  the  body  of  the  noble  young  father. 

It  is  natural  and  seems  appropriate  for  the  young  and 
the  old  to  die  ;  but  when  the  thread  is  cut  in  full  life, 
and  hope,  home,  wife,  child,  are  all  made  desolate  by  the 
blow,  it  looks  as  though  the  law  of  life  was  reversed  in  its 
enactment,  and  a  great  wrong  was  done.  Our  friend  now 
missed  the  hand  on  which  she  had  leaned,  and  turned 
herself  to  find  some  ray  of  light  beaming  on  her  destiny  ; 


38  DEATH  THE   GEEAT  PURIFIER. 

she  saw  no  star  beyond  her  on  the  sky- verge  of  her  com- 
ing days,  but  she  committed  her  all  to  the  hands  of  that 
great  and  loving  One  who  stills  the  young  raven's 
cry,  and  looked  up  with  cheerful  hope. 

What  now  was  to  be  done  ?  The  fire  had  devoured  her 
father's  wicked  gains,  gathered  up  by  speculation  in  bread, 
and  the  tears  and  heart-burnings  of  hungry  children,  and 
heart-broken  mothers  ;  her  father,  mother  and  husband 
were  dead,  and  naught  was  left  to  her  but  poverty  and  her 
little  feeble  Julia.  She  had  learned  how  to  work,  could 
cook  her  own  food,  and  she  resolved  to  know  more  of  hon- 
est, inspiring  toil.  In  less  than  a  month  she  had  command 
of  her  needle,  as  a  tailoress  and  dress-maker,  and  with  her 
superior  genius,  she  soon  found  employment  among  the 
best  of  her  sex;  for  the  truly  noble  among  them,  who 
had  known  her  as  the  gay  and  beautiful  wife,  now  be- 
held her  with  admiration  for  her  courage  and  her  vigor 
ous  struggles  with  the  reiterated  blows  of  a  mysterious 
Providence. 

She  felt  a  deeper  joy  for  the  blessings  of  her  humble 
table,  because  procured  with  her  own  hands,  and  Julia 
was  delighted  with  all  the  little  gifts  that  the  heart  of  a 
mother  so  joyfully  brings  to  the  being  it  loves.  In  the 
fierce  fires  of  suffering,  Mary  had  learned  that  other  hearts 
could  suffer,  and  to  the  poor  she  became  a  messenger  of 
mercy,  wherever  suffering  human  hearts  could  be  found. 

She  made  the  widow's  heart  to  sing  for  joy,  and  the 
orphan,  at  the  sight  of  her  loving  face,  smiled  through  its 
tears.  She  found  that  "  to  give  is  more  blessed  than  to 
receive. '  She  was  known  by  all  the  poor  as  the  "good 
Mary,"  who  came  to  make  them  happy,  and  if  she  had 
nothing  to  bestow,  she  smiled  on  the  sufferer,  and  his  pain 
grew  lighter  under  its  sunny  power.     Through  long  years 


THE  GRAIN  SPECULATION.  39 

the  loving  Mary  had  supported  herself  and  child  by  the 
toil  of  her  own  hands.  Unfortunately  she  had  removed 
from  the  scene  of  her  trials  to  the  village  where  I  found 
her  for  better  prospects,  where  at  last  her  powers  sank 
under  accumulated  labors,  and  a  severe  fever  had  brought 
her  far  away  from  her  humble  friends,  on  that  cold  night. 
I  found  her  on  her  last  bed  of  rest,  neglected  and  forgot- 
ten by  the  busy  world,  attended  by  two  little  children, 
adorned  with  most  saintly  meekness  and  full  of  the  most 
joyful  expectations  of  a  bright  and  immortal  future.  As 
the  night  was  far  advanced,  and  my  duties  for  the  next  day 
very  arduous,  I  left  my  excellent  wife,  whose  heart  was 
ever  open  to  the  child  of  want,  to  watch  the  balance  of 
the  hours  before  day,  and  made  my  way  homewards.  I 
slept  little  till  towards  morning.  I  had  heard  too  much 
for  sleep — a  thousand  unvailing  thoughts  rushed  through 
my  brain. 

I  have  often  been  startled  by  the  revelations  of  the  grain 
traffic,  and  the  fearful  inroad  that  the  spirit  of  speculation 
has  made  upon  public  morals.  It  converts  our  Wes- 
tern farmers  into  heartless  and  griping  Shylocks  ;  they 
take  the  pound  of  flesh  at  hazard  of  the  blood  and  life  of 
their  victims.  The  moment  they  are  offered  fair  prices 
for  their  products,  they  stand  for  more.  "When  wheat 
brings  two  dollars,  the  vision  of  three  instantly  rises  in 
their  heads,  and  they  harden  their  hearts  more  rapidly 
than  did  Pharaoh.  Nay,  they  seem  to  desire  a  famine, 
that  the  grim  horror  of  stalking  death  may  force  the  peo- 
ple to  disgorge  the  last  bit  of  gold  to  obtain  needful  food  ; 
its  consequences  engulf  both  the  people  and  the  clergy. 
"  One  morning,  on  my  trip  West,"  said  a  grain  speculator 
to  me,  "  I  staid  over  Sabbath  in  the  city  of  Buffalo,  and 
regretted  that  time  hurried  me  away.  The  Rev.  Mr. 
T ,  of  the  Baptist  church,  invited  me  to  his  house. 


40  THE  CARNIVAL   OF  MONEY. 

Speculation  in  the  city  was  at  its  height ;  he  had  himself 
just  made  sale  of  city  lots  that  left  the  sum  of  one  hun- 
dred thousand  dollars  in  his  pocket ;  he  is  a  devout  and 
exemplary  man,  and  yet  I  could  not  reconcile  his  two 
pursuits.  He  told  me  that  he  was  startled  by  the  revela- 
tions of  crime  constantly  occurring  in  the  city.  It  was 
filled,  he  said,  with  thousands  of  young  men,  who  had 
come  there  to  make  their  fortune,  and  he  assured  me  that 
more  than  three  thousand  dissolute  girls  swarmed 
through  all  the  city  ;  two  thousand  of  them,  at  least, 
were  known  by  the  police  to  be  strangers  from  the  South- 
ern and  Eastern  towns  and  villages,  who  had  just  arrived, 
and  he  feared,  he  said,  their  object  was  evil ;  for  why 
should  young  women  work  and  sew,  when  young  men 
got  rich  by  speculation  ?  Money  indeed,  he  said,  seemed 
to  have  usurped  the  soul  of  all  things — honesty,  religion, 
virtue,  were  dead.  In  passing  with  him  over  the  city  on 
Monday,  to  view  some  lots,  he  urged  me  to  buy,  and 
spoke  enthusiastically  of  the  certainty  of  a  rapid  increase. 
The  city,  he  said,  had  never  been  so  prosperous. 

The  banks  swarmed  with  men  eager  to  draw  the  last 
dollar  to  invest  in  wheat  and  beef.  The  storehouses  from 
Buffalo  to  New  York  were  crowded  with  vast  stores  of 
wheat,  while  common  Ohio  horse-tooth  corn,  worth  in 
dull  times  twenty-five  cents,  had  risen  to  a  dollar,  and 
the  laboring  classes  all  over  the  rich  Genesee  valley  were 
eating  potatoes  and  this  coarse  kind  of  corn.  There  were 
vast  fields  of  wheat  in  that  region,  that  waved  their  golden 
riches  in  their  sight ;  but  they  could  not  taste  it ;  no 
poor  man  could  eat  wheat  at  twenty  shillings  a  bushel. 
The  large  farmers  had  caught  the  spirit,  and  they  held 
on  to  the  last  bushel ;  they  would  not  sell  it,  said  they, 
for  it  will  surely  be  four  dollars  by  the  next  spring. 

"  Such  enormous  prices,"  said  I,  "  for  bread  and  beef 


THE  CABNIYAL  OF  '37.  41 

must  take  away  all  the  money  from  the  cities,  and  what 
then  will  become  of  the  poor  ?" 

"  I  know  it,"  said  my  opponent,  "  but  how  to  avoid  it,  I 
do  not  know.  I  have  invested  fifty  thousand  in  wheat, 
and  what  shall  I  do  ?  I  must  realize  a  profit.     Elder  T. 

told  his  people  that  bread  was  getting  so  high  in  B , 

that  he  feared  half  the  sewing  women  in  the  city  would 
be  tempted  to  sell  their  virtue  for  bread  for  their  chil- 
dren."   And  here  he  quoted  Hood's  lines  : 

"  Oh,  that  virtue  and  work  should  be  so  cheap, 
And  bread  should  be  so  dear." 

The  parson  shuddered  when  he  told  us  that  a  multitude 
of  girls  had  disappeared  from  families  as  servants,  and 
sewing  girls  were  more  scarce,  as  the  prices  for  labor 
were  made  lower,  because  it  cost  so  much  to  live. 

"  We  know  too  well,"  said  the  minister,  "  where  they  have 
gone.  They  may  be  seen  here,  fluttering  in  silks  and 
satins.  Daily  fathers  visit  the  city  in  a  state  of  horror, 
hunting  for  lost  daughters.     This  is  horrible." 

"  But,  doctor,  we  know  that  such  facts  are  not  strange  ; 
they  follow  from  a  law  of  things ;  for  speculation,  espe- 
cially in  bread,  is  the  highest  species  of  gambling  ;  and  a 
nation  never  yet  engaged  in  it  without  stabbing  to  the 
heart  all  public  virtue.  As  the  males  grow  reckless  in 
the  great  cities,  the  centres  of  social  life,  the  poison 
spreads  to  every  domestic  circle,  and  into  the  country, 
infecting  all  classes  with  a  spirit  of  reckless  gain-getting, 
and  during  the  period  marked  by  this  dreadful  mania, 
not  less  than  twenty  thousand  girls  fled  from  the  country 
to  the  northern  cities  for  purposes  of  rapid  gain  ;  and  as 
many  more  in  the  cities  went  down  into  the  polluted 
whirlpool  of  pride  and  fashion. 

"  During  one  period  of  speculation  in  France,  the  whole 


42  INDUSTBY  THE  OBGANIC  LAW. 

nation  was  given  over  to  idleness  and  lust.  Fine  ladies 
collected  in  saloons,  drank  to  excess,  broke  glasses,  and 
used  the  language  of  men  ;  great  numbers  engaged  in 
playing  with  pantins,  little  bits  of  pasteboard,  marked 
with  spots,  and  attached  to  a  string,  with  which  the  little 
figure  was  set  in  motion.  Nobles,  high-born  ladies,  and 
princes  of  the  blood  played  with  these  paper  pantins,  or 
were  engaged  in  gay  drawing-rooms,  resplendent  with 
satin  and  lace  hangings,  and  rosewood  furniture,  in 
making  ribbon  knots,  or  cooling  their  burning  lusts  in 
debauchery  and  sin.  Your  city  education  in  New  York 
i3  a  play  with  pantins  ;  idleness  eats  out  the  soul,  and 
many  die  a  moral  death,  before  the  body  decays  from 
dissipation. 

"  Industry,  my  dear  doctor,  is  the  law  of  the  universe ; 
and  the  nation  that  neglects  sober,  honest  industry,  for 
a  life  of  speculation  and  rapid  gain,  is  sure  to  lose  its 
higher  life  and  sink  into  corruption.  God  worked,  and 
man  should  work  ;  not  one  class,  but  all  classes  ;  that  class 
that  live  by  turning  the  thumb-screws  of  trade,  to  wring 
high  profits  from  the  price  of  bread,  are  moral  lepers  on 
the  fair  fame  of  any  Christian  society.  Why,  my  dear  sir, 
only  last  winter  your  great  city  was  filled  with  starving  wi- 
dows ;  proud  daughters  pawned  their  garments  for  bread, 
and  when  the  relief  committees  visited  some  parts  of  the 
city,  young  American  women  hid  themselves  in  closets  ; 
they  had  not  garments  to  cover  their  poor  bodies. 

"  Children  have  starved  lying  on  the  cold  hearth-stone, 
where  the  last  embers  had  died — the  fire  of  the  hearth 
and  the  soul  of  the  child  fled  together.  And  this,  too, 
great  God!  when  there  was  bread  enough  in  the  land  ; 
but  it  was  hoarded  in  strong-barred  houses,  and  guarded 
by  the  mocking  Shylocks,  who  had  bought  and  bolted  it 
from  the  reach  of  the  people." 


THE  angel's  visit.  43 

I  had  but  shortly  before  my  visit  to  my  poor  dying 
patient  had  this  conversation  with  the  grain  speculator, 
and  when  my  patient  told  me  that  her  own  dead  father 
had  been  engaged  in  the  same  cruel  business,  and  that 
the  red  flames  had  lapped  up  his  ill-gotten  wealth,it  filled 
my  soul  with  intense  thoughts.  I  had  almost  seen  the 
angel  of  mercy  in  the  frost-spangled  air  just  before  the 
dear  little  cherub  came  from  the  bed  of  its  dying  mother 
over  the  snow  to  bring  me  her  sad  message  ;  and  now,  my 
troubled  brain  again  carried  me  in  sleep  to  the  Heavenly 
messenger  ;  I  dreamed  that  I  saw  him  ;  but  his  face  was 
sad.  He  walked  through  the  city,  and  the  sights  of  sin 
that  he  saw  covered  his  flaming  robe  with  spots  of  per- 
fect blackness  ;  he  found  temples  where  loud  prayers 
were  offered  ;  pews,  cushioned,  and  gilded  pulpits,  where 
pride,  and  lust,  and  Mammon  engulphed  the  preacher 
and  the  worshippers  ;  prayers  went  up  to  proclaim  in  the 
ear  of  God  that  the  people  were  thankful  for  all  their 
Christian  privileges.  And  the  angel  saw  whole  streets 
given  up  to  debauchery,  where  tobacco  and  rum,  mixed 
with  music  and  the  discordant  yellings  of  the  revellers, 
made  night  hideous  ;  the  dagger,  the  slung-shot  and  the 
pistol  were  often  found  on  the  persons  of  young  Ameri- 
can men  ;  woe-stricken  wretches  were  idle  in  the  streets, 
or  quivering  with  white  lips  at  the  door  of  the  public 
soup-houses.  Plenty  of  outward  piety,  and  high-priced 
prayers — while  lust  and  sin  overflowed  the  whole  city. 
Plenty  of  men  and  women  with  bodies  richly  dressed  and 
with  souls  like  ice  ;  law  and  the  police  leagued  with  rob- 
bery and  crime,  and  the  proud  judge  polluting  his  office 
by  receiving  bribes  from  harlots  and  thieves. 

As  the  angel  wiped  the  dust  from  his  feet,  and  passed 
from  the  city,  he  said,  "  This  outward  wrong  indicates  a 
rot  in   the   soul,  and  I  see  plainly  that  G-od  will  soon 


44  THE  CUBSE  OF  THE  ANGELS. 

gather  that  city  to  the  place  where  he  keeps  cinders  and 
ashes."  As  he  passed  from  the  city,  he  met  a  female 
child,  hastening  along  the  street,  with  a  little  bag  under 
its  tiny  arm.  It  had  on  no  shoes,  its  head  was  bare  and 
its  thin  face  was  pale.  The  messenger  stopped  to  kiss 
it ;  but  the  child  said,  "  Please,  beautiful  stranger,  don't 
stop  me  ;  I  must  go  home  ;  my  mother  is  starving  in  a 
garret,  and  this  meal  in  the  shot  bag  is  to  feed  her,  and 
this  bit  of  coal  is  to  warm  her.  "We  had  no  fire,  and  I 
took  it  from  the  coal  heap  as  I  passed  ;  it  is  only  a  little 
piece,  and  mother  was  so  cold !  so  please,  beautiful  stran- 
ger, don't  send  me  to  the  watch-house,  mother  will  die 
and  freeze  if  you  do." 

The  angel  blessed  the  child,  and  told  it  to  hasten  to 
save  its  mother  ;  and  as  he  passed  from  the  city,  he  drop- 
ped a  tear  on  the  grass  that  burned  to  blackness  ;  and  as 
he  went  on,  he  met  two  other  angels,  coming  to  curse 
the  city  where  children  stole  to  keep  their  mothers 
from  dying. 

I  awoke  in  deep  despair  ;  my  soul  was  very  sorrowful. 
"What  marvel,  thought  I,  that  the  starving  child,  who 
walked  alone  over  the  cold  earth  by  the  frosty  starlight 
to  get  a  doctor  for  her  dying  mother,  should  ask  if  the 
good  folks  in  heaven  kept  "  public  soup-houses  "  where 
all  the  poor  could  have  enough  to  eat  ?  The  story  of  my 
patient  had  chilled  me  to  the  bone  ;  and  I  sat  speechless 
for  some  time  on  the  bedside. 

The  sun  was  shining  cheerfully  when  I  crossed  the 
yard  for  my  faithful  pony,  and  I  soon  made  the  few  calls 
my  limited  practice  required,  when  I  again  sought  the 
humble  cottage  of  my  patient.  I  had  bought  a  few  com- 
forts at  the  country  store,  and  found  my  angel  wife — ever 
faithful,  and  now  gone  to  her  reward — at  her  post  by  the 
bedside.     She  had  been  weeping  over  the  little  Julia, 


A  DEATH-BED.  45 

who  slumbered  sweetly  by  her  mother's  side.  She,  too, 
slept. 

Both  awoke  shortly  after  my  entrance,  and  I  took  my 
wife's  station  at  the  bedside,  while  she  went  into  the  only 
other  apartment  of  the  little  cottage,  to  prepare  some  tea 
and  a  little  toast  for  the  poor  sufferer  ;  she  closed  the 
door,  to  render  her  as  free  from  the  annoyance  of  noise  as 
possible,  and  to  allow  her  to  make  what  communications 
werS  necessary  to  me  ;  the  child  remained  near  her 
mother,  from  whom  she  would  not  allow  herself  to  be 
separated  scarcely  a  moment. 

Gazing  tenderly  upon  her  little  face,  the  mother  closed 
her  eyes  and  murmured  a  few  words  of  prayer,  and  then 
addressed  me  as  calmly  as  though  in  health.  "  Doctor, 
you  know  all  of  my  history  that  is  of  consequence,  except 
what  relates  to  my  dear  child.  I  have  penned  a  few 
directions  for  one  of  her  aunts,  who  -will  doubtless  dis- 
charge the  trust  I  bequeath  to  her.  Would  to  God  I 
could  lighten  the  pecuniary  part  of  it,  but  that  is  impossi- 
ble ;  these  few  memorials  of  better  days  are  all  that  are 
left  to  me.  I  beg  you  will  appropriate  what  remains  after 
this  poor  body  shall  be  disposed  of,  to  some  use  in  your 
little  home,  and  think  kindly  of  the  former  possessor. 
This  ring  I  would  urge  upon  you  had  not  your  kindness 
already  refused  it,  and  reminded  me  that  it  will  soon  be 
the  only  sacred  link  between  the  dead  parents  and  the 
living  child.  It  was  the  gift  of  my  dear  husband  on  my 
bridal  day  ;  my  father  put  it  on  my  finger  as  he  gave  me 
away.  Other  costly  gems  sparkled  in  my  hair,  but  they 
were  appropriated  to  a  better  use  ;  thank  God !  they 
were  left  to  find  comforts  for  my  dear  husband  and  bread 
for  our  child,  before  I  had  learned  the  sacred  duty  of 
labor.  Your  kindness  has  brought  you  here,  as  I  learn 
it  ever  does   at  the  summons  of  the  wretched  ;  I  shall 


46  A  BEQUEST. 

need  no  medicine,  the  lamp  is  exhausted  ;  the  flame  even 
now  nickers  ;  in  a  little  while  I  shall  go  hence." 

She  had  wearied  herself  by  the  exertion  of  speaking, 
and  dozed  ;  I  went  into  the  little  kitchen  to  consult  with 
my  wife  upon  our  future  efforts.  I  kept  my  eye  occasion- 
ally on  the  face  of  my  patient,  and  had  withdrawn  it  but 
for  a  moment,  when  I  saw  her  move  convulsively  ;  I  ran 
to  her,  and  she  asked  distinctly  for  water  ;  she  swallowed 
a  little,  and  thanked  me,  even  gracefully,  so  quiet 'was 
she  ;  she  closed  her  eyes,  and  her  pulse  fell  rapidly. 
Suddenly  she  drew  her  child  to  her  breast,  and  calmly 
uttered,  "  To  God  and  you  I  leave  her !"  My  wife  was 
instantly  at  her  side.  I  turned  my  eyes  towards  her  face  ; 
it  was  placid  as  heaven  ;  the  spirit  of  the  good  and  beau- 
tiful had  fled  to  the  home  of  the  immortals. 


SCENES   IN   CITY  PRACTICE 


LEAVES  FROM  THE  LOG  OF  AN  UNFLEDGED  JSSCULAPIAN  :  FISHING  FOR  PRACTICE 
IN  A  FASHIONABLE  NEIGHBORHOOD— MASTER  TIP  TAPE  AND  HIS  NOSE— IRISH 
PRACTICE— A  SCENE  IN  HIGH  LIFE — THE  MANIAC. 

Afteb  the  removal  from  my  neighborhood  of  the  lovely 
Mrs.  Mackerel,  and  when  Mr.  Mackerel's  check  for  $150 
had  been  cashed,  and  the  dear  child  had  been  enjoying 
the  waters  of  Saratoga  for  more  than  a  week,  I  relapsed 
into  a  very  miserable  condition.  Mrs.  Tip  Tape,  although 
she  expressed  herself  most  graciously  on  my  surgical 
merits  after  the  conclusion  of  my  attendance  on  Master 
Tip  Tape's  bumped  nose,  was  neither  as  amiable  nor  as 
beautiful  as  Mrs.  Mackerel ;  besides,  she  had  an  ugly 
hand  and  clubbed  fingers,  and  used  depilatory  powder 
for  them  and  her  forehead,  for  she  was  an  amateur  phre- 
nologist, and  kept  a  bust  regularly  mapped  out.  I  could 
not  bear  to  feel  her  pulse,  which  she  was  very  fond  of 
requesting  me  to  do  ;  she  wore  a  number  of  diamond 
rings  and  very  rich  lace,  in  such  profusion  that  I  used 
to  be  obliged  to  hunt  for  her  pulse  like  a  chicken  under 
its  mother's  wing,  and  I  always  felt  the  pin-feathers. 
Moreover,  she  ate  onions  or  garlic,  and  had  a  horrid 
habit  of  applying  her  tongue  to  her  teeth,  and  that  used 
3 


4:8  A  TRAP  FOE  BUSINESS. 

to  put  me  in  a  passion,  which  I  had  hard  work  to  con- 
ceal. My  feelings  were  rather  tender  when  I  thought  of 
dear  Mrs.  Mackerel,  and  I  was  rejoiced  when  the  nose 
resumed  its  natural  dimensions,  and  Master  Tip  Tape 
saluted  me  with  a  kick  in  return  to  my  kind  inquiry 
touching  its  condition.  He  was  a  wretched  little  whelp, 
and  horribly  spoiled  by  his  dam  ;  the  nose,  at  best,  looked 
like  a  piece  of  putty  with  a  couple  of  key-holes  in  it ;  and 
it  did  me  good  to  remark  before  a  roguish  young  lady, 
that  the  little  pup  was  rather  pug-nasi-ous.  The  mother 
did  not  understand  it,  but  the  pun  was  subsequently 
retailed  to  my  loss,  by  the  young  lady.  Mrs.  Tip  Tape 
could  never  endure  the  sight  of  my  old  wind-dried  gig, 
and  was  particularly  scandalized  when  I  persisted  in  carry- 
ing home  a  beef-steak  or  a  pair  of  chickens  passing  her 
"  splendid  "  residence,  and  giving  her  a  profound  saluta- 
tion on  purpose,  as  I  had  also  done  to  plague  the  lovely 
Mrs.  Mackerel. 

I  had  an  instinctive  feeling  that  the  wealthier  ranks  of 
my  commercial  neighbors  would  never  tolerate  my  plain 
habits  and  manners,  nor  my  direct  utterance.  I  was  of 
Quaker  notions,  and  had  offended  the  parson  because  I 
could  not  conscientiously  pay  pew  rent,  neither  could  I 
afford  it ;  I  despised  ornaments  and  black  clothes  ;  my 
horse  was  coarse  and  ugly,  and  my  gig  old  ;  I  would 
carry  home  my  own  marketing,  because  my  two  servants 
were  otherwise  employed,  as  my  wife  was  an  invalid. 
Some  called  me  a  murderer,  because  I  was  suspected  of 
practicing  dissection,  and  had  my  office  full  of  anatomical 
preparations,  and  two  grinning  skeletons  ;  others  said  I 
had  bought  them  and  kept  them  as  a  decoy.  I  snapped 
my  fingers  at  them  all,  and  made  myself  as  democratic  as 
possible  among  the  vulgarians,  and  resolved  to  get  my 
living  from  them.     But  I  soon  found,  however,  that  for- 


HUNGRY  AND  CRITICAL  PATRONS.  49 

mality  of  dress,  and  above  all,  the  display  of  vulgar 
jewelry  on  the  person,  and  brass  on  the  carnage  and 
harness,  was  the  chief  means  by  which  these  poor  people 
judged  of  medical  attainment ;  the  presumption  with 
them  being  a  very  natural  one,  that  every  man  would 
procure  such  evidences  of  wealth  if  he  had  the  money, 
and  he  would  assuredly  possess  that,  if  the  wealthy  em- 
ployed him.  Moreover,  I  found  that  sympathy  and 
attention  were  lost  upon  most  of  them.  If  I  showed 
extra  attention,  it  was  imputed  either  to  misgivings  of 
my  ability  to  manage  the  case,  or  a  desire  to  make  higher 
charges  ;  and  if  I  was  kind  and  social,  there  was  no  use 
in  making  any  effort  to  collect  my  bills.  Medicine  was 
cheap,  and  it  was  my  duty  as  a  philanthropist  to  attend 
to  the  poor  ;  but  the  great  fault  was,  I  attempted  to 
teach  them  how  to  avoid  disease  by  regulating  their 
dress  and  selecting  their  food ;  I  condemned  tobacco  and 
liquor,  and  gave  little  medicine.  I  was  fond  of  flowers, 
and  would  gather  them  from  the  hedges  when  I  rode  out 
of  town.  In  short,  they  got  the  notion  that  my  head  was 
full  of  crotchets,  and  that  I  was  a  very  eccentric  person. 
This  furnished  my  professional  brethren  with  a  capital 
wet  blanket  with  which  to  cover  up  my  character  behind 
my  back,  and  I  am  ashamed  to  say  they  were  not  slow 
in  using  it.  One,  since  distinguished  for  the  cure  of 
cholera,  and  the  receipt  of  imaginary  silver  pitchers,  in 
an  especial  manner  distinguished  himself ;  he  got  so  far 
in  his  slander,  that  I  was  fain  to  send  a  man  of  the  law  to 
stop  his  mouth  ;  he  apologized  in  a  most  abject  manner, 
and  for  some  time  I  heard  no  more  of  his  villainy. 

Thus  matters  went  on  for  some  years.  My  friends 
called  on  me  whenever  they  wanted  a  dinner,  or  some 
one  to  bore  with  their  dullness  and  selfishness  ;  now  and 
then  they  honored  me  by  asking  advice  ;  but  I  was  too 


50  purgatory;  "cash  on  delivery." 

wise  for  that ;  where  I  could  get  no  money,  I  was  re- 
solved not  to  be  paid  in  slander.     True,  I  was  obliged  to 
listen  to  the  praises  of  some  tyro  who  had  not  yet  shed 
his  surgical  pin-feathers,  and  to  hear  my  own  want  of 
confidence  (meaning  my  skill)  and  my  modesty  (meaning 
my  knowledge  of  their  own  meanness)  deprecated  by  these 
people  ;  but  it  was  cheaper  to  give  them  meat,  and  bread 
and  butter,  and  to  allow  them  to  bore  me,  and  abuse  me 
behind  my  back,  than  to  incur  their  patronage  and  their 
fidgets.     Mean  people   are   always  excessively  trouble- 
some, and  continually  asking  the  surgeon  they  intend 
to   cheat,  "If  he  had  ever  seen  or  heard  such  a  case 
before  ?"  as  if  the  phials  of  wrath  had  been  opened  on 
their  especial  heads,  and  nature  had  created  their  organ- 
ism especially  to  torment  themselves  and  their  surgeons. 
There  is  evidently  always  on  hand  a  large  class  of  peo- 
ple, that  were  no  doubt  manufactured  expressly  to  train 
young  physicians  in  patience,  and  to  punish  old  ones  for 
their  sins  ;  many  of  the  former  are  such  conceited  fools, 
and  of  the  latter,  some  are  such  knowing  old  scamps,  that 
they  would  derange  the  best  regulations  of  Old  Nick,  and 
completely  subvert  his  discipline  ;  they  ought  in  justice 
to  him  to  receive  their  reward  here. 

I  found  the  Irish  women  the  most  awful  scourge  ;  to 
please  them  was  impossible  ;  and  to  cure  them  in  their 
filthy  abodes  next  to  impossible.  The  only  way  to  get 
your  obstetric  fee,  was  to  take  it  in  advance.  The  mer- 
cantile rule  of  "  cash  on  delivery,"  would  never  answer. 
The  commodity  delivered  was  worse  than  useless  to  the 
surgeon,  and  Patrick  could  never  get  the  cash  out  of  his 
pocket  when  the  "ould  woman  was  aisy."  I  have  had 
them  come  at  midnight  to  my  door-bell,  and  swear  by  all 
the  Saints  they  had  not  a  penny,  and  no  sooner  had  I 
crawled  into  my  bed,  than  they  would  bo  there,  money 


A  DOCTOR  WATCHING  HIS  DIGNITY.  51 

in  hand,  begging  me   to   come  for  the  love  of  the  Holy- 
Virgin. 

About  this  time  it  was  that  I  learned  the  method  of 
making  most  enduring  enemies  out  of  my  best  profes- 
sional friends.  I  had  been  indebted  to  a  young  physician 
for  frequent  friendly  visits  and  offers  of  aid  in  my 
operations,  and  in  my  natural  trustfulness  received  him 
as  a  friend.  A  violent  case  of  illness  existed  at  this  time 
in  my  family  ;  it  was  of  such  a  character  as  almost  to 
preclude  hope,  and  the  despair  attendant  on  it,  and  my 
natural  disinclination  for  display,  made  me  indifferent  to 
professional  formalities,  and  I  was  pleased  and  encour- 
aged by  his  assurances  of  a  recovery.  I  invited  my  friend 
to  witness  a  surgical  operation  of  some  consequence  to 
my  reputation,  and  when  I  arrived  at  the  house  of  the 
patient,  whither  several  of  my  professional  friends  had 
preceded  me,  I  proceeded  to  my  duties  in  such  an  infor- 
mal manner,  and  with  such  seeming  indifference  to  all 
surgical  custom,  that  I  found  my  friend  was  greatly  an- 
noyed ;  for  he  had  assumed  all  the  dignity  of  the  con- 
sulting surgeon.  I  always  had  a  spice  of  fun  in  me,  and 
when  I  saw  him  imitating  in  every  movement  his  eccentric 
preceptor,  I  gave  a  triplet  to  his  double,  in  a  very  diverting 
manner,  and,  as  I  was  subsequently  told,  greatly  to  his 
chagrin.  On  requesting  him  to  tie  an  artery,  I  saw  he 
was  provided  with  his  tools,  and  had  probably  calculated  . 
to  be  invited  to  perform  the  operation,  though  I  knew 
he  had  never  attempted  one  ;  he  affected  to  be  greatly 
shocked  at  my  carelessness,  and  tried  to  frighten  me 
and  make  me  "lose  my  head,"  as  surgeons  say,  but  I 
laughed  and  joked  at  him  so,  that  he  was  quite  scandal- 
ized at  the  cheapness  at  which  I  held  his  dignity.  Poor 
fellow!  like  Don  Quixote  watching  his  rusty  armor  all 
night  on  the  cistern  top  in  the  inn-keeper!s  yard,  he  has 


52  A  SUMMONS  TO   HIGH  LIFE. 

been  at  the  same  occupation  for  twenty-five  years,  and  a 
terrible  bard  time  be's  bad  on't ;  it  has  now  become  so 
rusty  that  it  scarcely  serves  the  purpose  of  a  scare-crow. 

I  had  occasionally,  however,  some  capital  opportunities 
to  study  character  amongst  my  magnificent  friends.  Mrs. 
Tip  Tape  still  nodded  distantly  to  me  in  the  by-streets, 
and  now  and  then  I  was  sent  for  by  other  distingue 
personages.  One  morning,  very  early,  a  carriage  drove 
rapidly  to  my  door,  and  a  liveried  footman  rang  furiously 
my  modest  door-bell.  I  was  summoned  to  visit  instantly 
a  lady  whose  fame  had  reached  me  as  the  possessor  of 
boundless  wealth  and  a  dazzling  establishment  at  a  near 
village.  My  fame  as  a  physician  to  one  of  the  public 
charities  had  reached  her,  but  it  was  deemed  prudent  by 
the  liveried  footman  to  check  my  aspirations  by  inform- 
ing me  that  "the  family  physician  was  out  of  town."  I 
took  my  seat  in  the  gaudy  vehicle,  and  was  whirled  away 
without  my  breakfast  at  a  furious  rate.  I  tried  to  stiffen 
my  cervical  vertebrae  like  my  ambitious  brethren,  and 
prayed  to  Heaven  for  a  white  stock  and  a  black  suit.  I 
think  if  I  had  been  thus  adorned,  I  should  have  tried  the 
professional  plan  for  once  in  my  life,  for  I  began  to  be 
a  little  frightened  at  the  showings  up  of  my  cash 
book,  and  I  was  really  afraid  my  old  gig  would  fall  to 
pieces.  I  had  consulted  the  carriage-maker  about  the 
possibility  of  repairing  it,  but  he  cooled  my  hopes, 
by  assuring  me  that  he  could  do  nothing  more  than  put  a 
hoop  about  it.  I  looked  forth  upon  the  lovely  landscape, 
and  wished  for  my  little  queen  to  enjoy  it  with  me.  I 
had  no  hope  of  a  fee,  for  such  aspirations  are  not  wise  in 
the  young  physician  when  sent  for  by  his  rich  commer- 
cial neighbors  in  New  York  ;  the  honor  of  the  call  is 
deemed  quite  sufficient  for  a  year's  interest  of  the  mon- 
ey, if  not  for  the  liquidation  of  the  debt ;  he  usually 


THE  BLOOD  OF  THE  DOUGLAS.         53 

receives  the  interest,  however,  in  scandal,  should  his 
necessities  compel  him  to  send  for  the  fee  at  the  end  of 
the  year. 

On  my  arrival,  I  was  ushered  into  the  gaudy  parlor, 
where  every  color  vied  with  each  other  for  the  mastery. 
Two  china  mandarins  grinned  at  two  stacks  of  artificial 
flowers  on  the  mantel-shelf,  and  red  and  blue  books  were 
piled  on  the  centre-table.  I  sat  still,  and  shut  my  eyes 
to  avoid  amaurosis,  for  I  began  to  think  myself  a  piece 
of  colored  glass  in  a  kaleidoscope,  and  her  ladyship  turn- 
ing it  round  and  staring  at  me  through  t'other  end.  Her 
shrieks  now  reached  me  from  above  stairs,  and  a  message 
commanded  my  instant  presence.  I  found  her  lying  on 
a  gorgeous-colored  bed,  with  the  richest  kind  of  satin 
coverings,  and  every  particle  of  the  wood  that  sustained 
the  huge  load,  was  painted  and  carved  and  gilded  most 
elaborately  in  white,  blue  and  gold.  She  was  enveloped 
in  a  mass  of  lace,  and  throat,  ears,  arms  and  fingers  were 
resplendent  with  jewels  of  every  hue,  from  the  diamond 
to  the  ruby.  The  lady  must  have  weighed  at  least  a 
couple  of  hundred,  and  her  features  were  individually  of 
marked  similarity  ;  every  one  of  them  would  have  made 
a  very  fair  representative  of  the  other,  and  their  remark- 
ably florid  hue  made  them  collectively  like  the  setting 
sun  in  a  dry  August.  My  boots  creaked,  and  gave  timely 
notice  as  I  commenced  my  ascent  on  the  oaken  stair-way  ; 
her  ladyship  gave  a  shriek,  and  I  distinctly  heard  tho 
exclamation,  "  Oh !  the  Douglas,  the  Douglas ! — to  think 
that  the  blood  of  the  Douglas  should  come  to  this — to 
this — to  this."  I  knew  that  there  were  some  wild  sprigs 
of  fashion  in  her  family,  and  at  once  scented  the  whole 
affair.  A  forbidden  matrimonial  alliance,  thought  I : 
and  who  the  devil  is  the  Douglas  ?    We  shall  see. 

I   approached  the  bedside  with  profound  interest  in 


64:  INVOCATION  TO  MRS.   MACKEREL. 

every  lineament.  I  was  most  impressively  professional ; 
I  gazed  with  studied  interest  upon  the  radiant  counte- 
nance. Heaven  and  earth !  what  a  contrast  to  the  divine 
Mrs.  Mackerel  was  now  before  me!  and  yet  both  were 
gotten  up  in  the  most  approved  style  of  either  end  of  the 
upholsterer's  scale  for  enticing  the  fashionable  devotee  to 
commercial  grandeur.  My  patient  had  the  good  taste  to 
make  everything  harmonize  with  her  person  ;  the  tout 
ensemble  was  unique. 

The  external  arrangements,  scenes,  drapery,  etc.,  were 
all  of  admirable  getting  up  ;  but  the  pathology  was  not 
so  fine  ;  it  did  not  work  at  all  to  advantage.  In  the  first 
place,  the  choking  was  not  well  done  ;  it  was  nothing 
more  than  a  vulgar  gulp  ;  it  came  so  natural,  however, 
that  I  began  to  think  that  physiological  and  spiritual  ex- 
ercise had  something  to  do  with  the  attack,  and  that 
some  powerful  internal  aid  had  helped  along  the  other 
diagnostic,  viz.,  the  evidently  studied  exclamation,  "  Oh ! 
the  Douglas,  the  Douglas ! — to  think  that  the  blood  of 
the  Douglas  should  come  to  this — to  this — to  this  !"  and 
then  a  powerful  gulp  with  a  badly  done  convulsive  shud- 
der. I  was  a  mere  chicken,  to  be  sure — a  gosling,  if  you 
please  ;  but  I  was  not  to  be  gammoned  by  such  a  con- 
trivance. I  saw  the  lady  watching  me,  evidently  enough, 
through  her  trembling  eye-lids  ;  I  was  used  to  that,  and 
looked  as  though  the  tears  were  about  to  start  at  her 
distress  ;  but  oh !  my  fond  heart,  such  a  contrast  to  the 
lovely  Mrs.  Mackerel !  Alas !  those  silken  fringes  resting 
on  Parian  marble — the  drapery  of  the  stars  before  the 
windows  of  the  soul,  soothing  the  o'erburdened  spirit ; 
angels'  wings,  fanning  the  lovely  creature  to  repose  after 
the  disappointment  of  the  new  carriage !  and  shutting 
out  the  hateful  tobacco-chewing  Mackerel ;  and  the  lovely 
and  exquisitely  jeweled  hand,  as  it  lay  like  a  dear  little 


AN  EEUPTION — OUR  ESCAPE.  55 

dead  dove  on  the  lace  counterpane  !  Alas !  alas !  such  a 
contrast !  Do  not  think  me  unkind,  dear  reader ;  but 
what  do  you  think  I  did  to  confirm  my  diagnosis  ?  I 
am  afraid  to  tell  you,  but  truth  and  my  professional  char- 
acter oblige  me  to  say  it ;  though  I  confess  to  you  I 
would  not  speak  the  word  if  I  was  in  the  way  of  attending 
hysterical  ladies,  from  which,  thank  God,  I  have  been  ex- 
cused, since  I  attained  my  hundred  and  fourth  year. 
"Well,  then,  if  I  must  confess  it,  I  must.  I  applied  my 
nose  near  enough  to  catch  her  ladyship's  breath,  and  to 
efface  the  odor  of  Patchouli,  which  was  intended  to  de- 
ceive me.  I  became  as  strong  as  a  giant  in  scientific 
diagnosis.  I  would  have  bearded  Hippocrates  or  Dr. 
Francis.  The  lady  was  overcome  with  excitement  from 
too  highly  charged — spirits !  I  sat  down  by  the  bedside, 
and  most  learnedly  tried  to  feel  the  pulse  ;  it  was  con- 
cealed in  fat  like  a  squab  pigeon.  My  temper  was  tried 
severely  by  the  persistent  silence  of  the  patient,  and  I 
resolved  to  open  her  mouth  by  operating  on  the  stomach. 
I  pretended  to  give  her  a  restorative,  but  slily  put  in  four 
grains  of  tartar  emetic.  This  I  was  confident  would  cool 
the  memory  of  the  Douglas,  and  bring  my  lady  out  of 
her  tantrum,  and  let  me  go  home.  I  fed  her  a  table- 
spoonful  every  fifteen  minutes,  in  rose-water,  and  talked 
soothingly  occasionally  about  her  to  the  nurse,  who  was  a 
pretty  black-eyed  girl,  and  looked  particulary  aufait  at  the 
scene  ;  showing  by  her  conduct  that  it  was  an  old  story. 
On  the  fourth  dose,  the  deep  began  to  be  troubled,  and  I 
called  for  a  basin.  The  surge  began  to  heave  ;  a  copi- 
ous ejection  of  miscellaneous  ingesta  occurred ;  "  the 
blood  of  the  Douglas  "  was  silenced.  I  was  no,  coward, 
reader,  but  I  thought  it  prudent  to  avoid  the  reac- 
tion of  her  ladyship's  recovery.  The  carriage  was  in 
waiting,  and  I  knew  what  I  should  get  when  she  came 


56         heart  tones:  a  victim  to  marriage. 

to,  so  I  took  my  leave,  with  the  assurance  to  the  nurse, 
that  all  would  now  go  on  well,  and  was  whirled  home  to 
my  Irish  patients.  I  subsequently  learned  that  the 
"  blood  of  the  Douglas  "  was  a  Scotch  peddler,  of  only  one 
remove  from  a  "  laird,"  and  that  the  cause  of  her  lady- 
ship's attack  was  the  marriage  of  her  son  to  the  daughter 
of  a  cotton  broker  ;  the  old  Douglas,  having  made  up 
his  last  pack,  had  gone  to  heaven. 

Such  ridiculous  scenes  are  calculated  to  destroy,  for 
a  time,  our  finer  sensibilities  ;  but  I  bless  God  that  I 
never  remember  the  time,  when  my  heart  was  steeled  to 
that  resistless  pity  the  true  physician  should  ever  feel  for 
the  innocent  and  defenceless.  I  know  not  the  man  in  my 
profession,  and  God  forbid  I  should  ever  meet  him,  who 
has  lost  his  sympathy  for  the  victim  of  disappointed  love. 
Oh !  how  the  heart  will  sometimes  reply  to  some  rapid 
utterance  of  the  poor  maniac,  when  in  one  little  sentence, 
incoherently  uttered,  she  tells  the  story  of  that  grief  that 
has  marked  each  sad  hour  on  the  dial-plate  of  memory, 
and  turned  away  the  smile  from  her  face  and  the  light  of 
reason  from  its  throne !  It  was  my  sad  chance  once  to 
hear  an  expression  I  shall  never  forget,  from  a  poor 
young  creature  who  had  been  deluded  by  a  wretch  into 
the  belief  that  he  loved  her  ;  she  was  the  elder  of  two 
daughters  of  a  respectable  professional  man  in  this  city, 
and  they  were  left,  at  his  death,  with  a  kind  and  affection- 
ate mother  and  a  handsome  fortune  ;  this  was  the  attrac- 
tion to  the  villain.  She  married  him,  but  on  his  discovery 
that  he  could  only  realize  her  fortune  on  the  attainment 
of  manhood  by  a  young  brother,  he  basely  left  her  and 
went  to  France  :  thither  she  pursued  him,  for  she  loved 
him  with  all  the  passionate  earnestness  of  a  young  heart. 
She  found  him  living  in  splendor  with  another  wife, 
whom  he  had  won  by  the  same  power  of  persuasion  that 


"  THEY  NEVER  BLOOM  FOB  ME."  57 

made  her  his  victim.  By  the  aid  of  counsel  she  obtained 
a  divorce  which  her  -wounded  pride  at  the  humiliating 
discovery  of  the  second  marriage  made  her  covet ;  but 
her  return  alone  to  her  native  country  overcame  her 
reason,  and  we  were  soon  obliged  to  place  her  in  the 
Bloomingdale  Asylum.  On  our  way  thither,  accompanied 
by  the  kind  friends  to  whom  she  was  attached,  a  flash  of 
lightning  (it  was  in  the  month  of  May,  and  a  thunder 
storm  came  up)  revealed  a  beautiful  peach  tree  in  full 
bloom  ;  some  of  the  blossoms  fell  into  the  carriage  as 
the  driver  hastily  turned  a  corner  and  brushed  against  a 
projecting  limb.  The  kind  lady,  on  whose  shoulder  she 
had  rested  her  head  during  the  entire  ride,  asked  her  if 
she  did  not  see  the  beautiful  blossoms  :  "  Yes,  yes,"  she 
replied,  "how  beautiful!  but  they  never  bloom  for  me." 
After  a  few  years  she  died,  but  not  until  her  sister  also 
had  become  hopelessly  insane. 

She  may  now  be  seen  in  a  neighboring  city,  basket  in 
hand,  picking  chips  ;  she  speaks  rapidly  but  kindly  to  all 
who  address  her,  and  is  allowed  to  wander  about  un- 
guarded, for  she  is  perfectly  harmless  and  makes  no 
attempt  to  injure  herself.  She  often  speaks  of  her  sister, 
and  always  with  the  most  exalted  reverence,  calling  her 
a  queen,  and  says  she  "  sits  on  her  throne  up  yonder," 
pointing  to  the  clouds.  Exaltation  of  fancy  is,  I  believe, 
the  usual  accompaniment  of  the  insanity  of  the  wealthy. 
The  humble  occupation  she  has  herself  chosen,  is  her 
fancied  duty  as  a  punishment  for  her  pride,  for  she  had 
the  religions  element  largely  in  action  during  her  early 
youth. 

Thus  it  was  from  day  to  day,  that  I  was  gaming  the 
lesson  that  in  every  phase  and  position  in  life,  there  is 
some  blight  that  obscures  and  puts  out  the  young  heart's 
impulse  to  love  and  honor  our  fellow-man  ;   and  when 


58  CHAEITY  OUR  TRUE    SOLA.CE. 

the  stormy  period  comes,  and  we  can  look  back  upon  an 
experience  of  more  than  half  the  life  allotted  to  us,  it 
will  be  well  for  us  if  pity  remains,  and  contempt  for  the 
follies  of  our  fellow-creatures  does  not  usurp  the  control 
of  our  lives,  and  obscure  all  our  finer  sensibilities. 


VILLAGE  PRACTICE 


SKETCHES  OF  VILLAGE  PRACTICE— SABBATH  IN  THE  COUNTRY— MY  FIRST  CASE: 
A  MALADY  OF  MIND  AND  BODY. 

"  It  is  not  all  of  life  to  live, 
Nor  all  of  death  to  die." 

Sabbath  in  the  country!  The  serene,  peaceful  Sab- 
bath ;  the  time  of  rest,  God-given  to  man,  for  purification 
and  prayer !  In  the  city  the  day  never  seems  so  truly 
good/ so  infinitely  holy  as  in  the  country.  The  sweet 
sound  of  distant  village  bells  ;  the  sight  of  cattle  released 
from  labor,  browsing  in  contented  herds  in  the  quiet  of 
green  fields  ;  the  very  chirp  of  the  countless  insects,  and 
the  innocent  song  of  the  myriad  of  birds,  all  breathe  of 
a  Sabbath  morality,  which  in  great  cities  is  lost  entirely. 
The  noise  of  active  life  ceases  ;  naught  meets  the  ear  but 
the  lingering  echoes  of  those  calm  church-bells,  as  they 
float  on  the  unadulterated,  healthful  air,  to  the  distant 
farm-houses. 

"  God  made  the  country,  man  made  the  town."  It  is 
not  unnatural  to  suppose  that  a  greater  blessing  rests 
with  the  Divine  work  than  with  that  of  mere,  however 
glorious,  art. 

I  had  been  a  resident  of  M some  three  or  four 

weeks,  but  had  been  detained  from  attending  church  each 


60  A  COUNTRY  CHURCH. 

Sabbath  by  violent  storms  ;  and,  to  confess  the  truth,  I 
did  not  regret  this  as  much  as  I  should,  from  the  fact 
that  I  dreaded  my  first  meeting,  as  their  sole  and  newly- 
established  physician,  with  the  wealthy  and  aristocratic 
inhabitants  of  that  pretentious  village.  I  shrank  ner- 
vously from  the  unavoidable  introductions,  and  the 
criticism  which  I  knew  must  as  inevitably  follow.  How- 
ever, one  morning  I  was  bereft  of  my  excuse  of  bad 
weather,  and  awakened  betimes  to  find  the  day  most 
obstinately  clear.  There  was  not  a  cloud  in  the  heavens 
that  I  could  reasonably  persuade  myself  was  the  signal  of 
coming  rain  ;  therefore  to  church  we  went,  my  wife  and 
I — she  all  aglow  with  expectation,  and  looking,  as  I 
thought,  unusually  charming  in  her  pink  ribbons,  and  I 
(I  acknowledge  it  candidly)  somewhat  oppressed  with  an 
indefinable  sense  of  doubt  and  dismay. 

It  was  a  small,  fantastically  designed  building,  of  an 
antique  style  of  architecture,  that  would  have  puzzled 
the  wisest  to  determine  ;  yet  it  was  striking,  artistic, 
and  displayed  decided  and  refreshing  originality.  Ivy 
and  other  vines  crept  in  thick  masses  over  the  roughly- 
hewn  stone  walls,  and  darkened,  with  their  close  embrace, 
the  low,  arched  windows.  Internally  everything  was  plain 
and  simple,  as  all  houses  of  true  worship  are,  yet  there 
was  not  wanting  a  certain  air  of  quiet  elegance.  The 
pulpit  was  strongly  indicative  of  classical  simplicity  in  its 
form,  and  had  few  adornments  ;  opposite  it,  at  the  other 
extremity  of  the  church,  was  a  small,  veiled  gallery,  con- 
taining an  organ  and  accommodations  for  a  choir  of 
singers. 

We  were  early.  I  seated  myself  quietly,  and  having 
nothing  to  occupy  my  thoughts,  half  unconsciously  I 
watched  the  entrance,  one  by  one,  of  the  villagers. 
Among  them  I  saw  a  face,  which,  as  I  beheld  it  then,  has 


A  PRATES  AND  A  SERMON.  61 

haunted  me  for  years.  It  was  that  of  a  man  in  the  prime 
of  his  life,  handsome,  well  bred,  and  intelligent,  but  so 
inexpressibly  sad,  so  indicative  of  evident  stagnation  and 
despairing  dissatisfaction,  that  I  turned  away  in  sorrow 
that  anything  made  by  God  should  carry  a  countenance 
like  that. 

The  services  began  with  slow,  sonorous  notes  of  prelude 
from  the  mellow-toned  organ.  Throughout  the  aisles  of 
the  little,  antique  church,  up  to  the  very  rafters,  floated 
that  rare,  sobbing  music,  penetrating  all  hearts,  sensitive 
either  to  good  or  evil,  with  that  delicate  sorrow  which 
Longfellow  says  "  is  not  akin  to  pain."  It  faded  as  the 
burden  changed  from  sadness  to  jubilant  hope,  and  ended 
in  sudden  staccato  chords  of  triumphant  joy.  All  eyes 
were  then  turned  towards  the  pulpit,  and  all  heads 
reverently  bowed,  as  the  minister,  an  aged  man,  arose 
and  uttered  a  brief  and  impressive  prayer.  It  was  one  of 
the  most  solemn  appeals  to  which  I  ever  listened.  Its 
beauty  lay  in  its  naturalness,  undefiled,  as  it  was,  by  the 
arts  of  showy  rhetoric.  It  seemed  to  pass  from  the  vene- 
rable clergyman's  lips  up  to  heaven,  as  the  sincerest  lan- 
guage in  which  man  could  address  and  adore  his  Creator. 
By  contrast,  the  cold  brilliancy  of  the  sermon  that  followed 
lost  all  effect ;  it  could  not  touch  me  like  that  simple, 
honest  supplication  for  Divine  mercy.  All  the  after  servi- 
ces of  the  day  were  nothing  to  me  ;  I  had  poured  out  my 
whole  soul  with  that  prayer,  and  had  no  further  power 
or  desire  to  worship.     I  was  satisfied. 

I  discerned  no  lack  of  eloquence  or  ministerial  learning 
in  that  aged  divine's  exhortation,  and  although,  as  we  left 
the  church,  I  heard  many  speak  of  it  with  expressions  of 
lively  pleasure,  I  felt  assured  that  he  himself  was  discon- 
tented with  the  discourse.  It  was  like  thin,  fitful  sunlight, 
veiling  a  lowering  December  sky  ;  or,  like  snow,  blinding 


62  A  PRAYER  AND  A  SERMON. 

the  eyes  with  glitter,  yet  in  its  actual  self,  very  cold  and 
unsubstantial.  I  perceived  that  there  was  that  beneath 
all  this  sparkle  of  words,  which  few  present  understood. 
Was  it  private  grief  ?  Was  it  some  hidden  agony  warring 
against  unnatural  restraint  ?  I  recognized  the  evidences 
of  insincerity,  but  whether  temporary  or  habitual,  I  could 
not  discover.  When  he  had  ceased,  I  felt  merely  the 
silence  ;  there  was  none  of  that  strange  sensation  at  the 
conclusion  of  impassioned  and  earnest  delivery  which 
I  had  experienced  often  before. 

"  Certainly,"  thought  I,  "  that  man  is  either  very  heart- 
less or  very  miserable." 

The  congregation  was  passing  quietly  out,  when,  in 
the  usual  organ  voluntary,  came  an  abrupt  but  slight 
pause,  followed  by  deep  stillness.  Immediately  a  hu- 
man voice,  a  full  and  rare  man's  voice,  commenced 
chanting  that  celebrated  solo  from  Felix  Mendels- 
sohn Bartholdy's  "Messiah"  "I  know  that  my  Ee- 
deemer  liveth."  Perfectly  in  time  and  tune,  although, 
with  no  further  accompaniment  than  the  few  opening 
chords,  the  voice  issued  from  the  choir,  bearing  to  world- 
weary  listeners  consolation  and  peace.  It  was  not  the 
noble  words,  nor  yet  the  nobler  music,  it  was  the  expres- 
sion gathered  by  that  fine  voice  from  the  two,  uniting  in 
one  glorious  whole,  till  the  very  atmosphere  seemed  to 
thrill  with  its  wealth  of  melody.  On  the  last  notes  of  the 
solo,  as  it  faded  magnificently  into  silence,  the  organ's  ac- 
companiment recommenced,  proving,  by  the  purest  unity 
of  the  two  sounds,  the  successful  intonation  of  the  un- 
known vocalist.  Many  curious  eyes  were  directed  to- 
wards the  gallery,  but  the  curtains  were  tightly  drawn, 
and  the  mystery  still  remained  mysterious.  Some  casual 
movement,  however,  momentarily  displaced  a  portion  of 
the  floating  screen,  and  revealed  to  me  a  glimpse  of  the 


A  PBAYEB  AND  A  SERMON.  63 

dark,  handsome  face  I  had  before  noticed  ;  and  it  was  no 
less  dark,  handsome,  or  discontented,  than  when  I  beheld 
it  then.  I  asked  myself  in  wonder,  if  that  soulful  sing- 
ing, and  that  morose,  unhappy -countenance,  belonged  to 
one  and  the  same  individual 

The  close  of  this  Sabbath  day  was  destined  to  reveal  to 
me  a  strange  fragment  of  the  life-history  of  this  very  man. 

The  night  fell,  dewy  and  starry,  but  with  an  oppressive, 
ness  of  atmosphere  that  was  not,  in  that  part  of  the  coun- 
try, an  uncommon  consequence  of  the  long  absence  of  rain. 
The  ground  was  almost  destitute  of  moisture,  and  the 
grass  of  that  vivid  green,  so  delightful  to  vision.  The 
air  was  heavy  and  oppressive,  the  very  stars  seemed 
to  blink  with  the  universal  drowsiness.  "We  were  just 
seated  at  our  plainly  furnished  tea-table,  when  there  came 
a  startling  peal  from  the  little  primitive  knocker  on  the 
hall  door. 

"  A  visitor,"  said  my  wife,  settling  her  cap. 

"  A  patient,"  said  I,  rushing  from  the  room,  just  in  time 
to  upset  a  black  boy  who  ran  violently  against  me.  Alter- 
nately rubbing  his  bruised  sides,  and  grinning  from  ear 
to  ear  at  the  adventure,  he  informed  me  that  "  massa  was 
took  sick  in  a  great  hurry,"  and  then  scampered  off,  having* 
first  pointed  out  a  large  and  conspicuous  house,  quite  near  , 
to  my  own,  as  the  residence  of  the  sick  man.  I  had  often 
before  noticed  it  for  the  elaborate  arrangement  of  its  ex- 
tensive gardens. 

In  a  few  moments  I  was  in  the  chamber  of  the  first  pa- 
tient to  whom  I  had  been  called  during  my  residence  in 
M .  The  room  was  large  and  brilliantly  lighted  ;  bou- 
quets of  delicate  flowers  were  scattered  over  it — evidently, 
illness  had  been  totally  unlooked  for  by  the  master  of  the 
dwelling.  As  I  entered)  the  face  of  my  patient  was  hid- 
den from  me  by  the  pillows  in  which  it  was  buried.     The 


64  A  PRAYER  AND  A  SERMON. 

wife,  a  young,  slight  thing,  half  sat,  half  reclined  be- 
side him,  her  head  bowed  on  her  bosom,  her  pale  hands 
tightly  locked  one  in  the  other.  She  raised  her  eyes  as  I 
entered,  and  on  seeing  me,  a  sudden  gleam  of  something 
which,  if  it  were  not  hope,  had  all  its  beauty,  passed  over 
her  features. 

"  Doctor !"  she  cried  wildly,  advancing  to  meet  me, 
"Doctor,  save  him — save  him!" 

Before  I  had  time  to  answer,  a  voice  from  the  other 
side  of  the  bed  uttered  in  a  low,  but  self-possessed 
tone  : 

"It  is  too  late!" 

Glancing  quickly  that  way,  I  saw  the  grey-haired  min- 
ister. On  his  hands  were  great  red  spots  of  blood  ;  the 
pillows,  the  sheets  were  marked  with  it ;  and  on  the 
white  dress  of  the  young  wife  glittered  also  fresh  crimson 
stains. 

"  He  is  dying,"  said  the  old  man,  reverently  kneeling 
at  the  bedside  ;  "  human  aid  is  of  little  consequence  now. 
Again  I  say,  it  is  too  late.  Abner,  my  son,  my  boy,  do 
you  hear  me? — you  are  dying!" 

I  approached  the  bed,  and  as  I  did  so,  the  sick  man 
•raised  his  head,  and  I  saw  before  me  the  beautiful, 
despairing  face  of  the  morning.  The  eyes  were  closed, 
and  deeply  sunken  in  their  sockets,  while  the  heavy 
masses  of  hair  and  beard  gave  the  ghastly  complex- 
ion a  still  more  unearthly  hue.  He  had  ruptured  a 
bloodvessel.  At  a  glance  I  saw  that  the  case  was  hope- 
less, and  that  the  little  I  could  do,  were  almost  as  well 
undone.  Life  was  ebbing  fast — mortality  verging  into 
immortality.  I  caused  his  face  to  be  bathed,  and  the 
clotted  blood  washed  from  his  nostrils  and  beard — that 
was  all. 

Meanwhile  the  old  man  sat  there  on  the  bed's  edge, 


A  MALADY  OF  MIND  AND  BODY.  65 

clasping  one  of  those  colorless  hands  in  his  own.  He 
kissed  the  almost  lifeless  forehead,  he  bent  over  that  dy- 
ing man  with  the  anxiety  which  none  but  a  father  could 
feel  at  such  a  moment. 

"Abner,  Abner,"  he  whispered,  "do  you — can  you 
hear  me  ?  If  you  can,  for  God's  sake  give  me  some  sig- 
nal r 

The  eyes  opened,  assuming  a  dull,  dreamy  look, 
closed  wearily,  and  opened  again  very  slowly. 

A  low  wail  burst  from  the  wife.  The  old  clergyman 
turned  upon  her  quickly,  and  said,  with  bitter  imperi- 
ousness  : 

"  Be  still,  I  must  speak  with  him."  Then  bending  again 
over  the  bed  : 

"  Abner,  have  you  thought  of  Death  ?  Shall  we  pray 
— have  you  made  peace  with  God  ?" 

There  appeared  to  be  a  sort  of  convulsive  effort 
on  the  sick  man's  part  to  attain  a  sitting  posture.  For 
a  moment  he  seemed  possessed  of  perfect  conscious- 
ness. 

"  God !"  he  echoed  hoarsely  ;  "  father,  how  dare  you 
name  him !  God !  You,  who  made  me  what  I  am  ;  you, 
who  goaded  me  to  sin,  and  all  for  money,  money !  Was 
it  so  precious  to  you  that  I  must  sell  myself,  body  and 
soul,  marry  for  it  ?  Don't  speak  to  me  of  God.  There  is 
none — no  God — no  God !" 

He  sank  back  on  his  pillows  exhausted.  Blood  burst 
anew  from  his  mouth.  He  tried  to  say  more,  but  the 
words  were  drowned  in  the  warm  tide  that  bubbled  over 
his  chest.  And  she,  the  wife,  stood  there  in  marble  calm- 
ness and  heard  that  which  was  to  blast  the  rest  of  her 
young  life.  Her  hands  were  clasped  again,  her  eyes 
fixed  unflinchingly  on  the  floor.  She  neither  moved  nor 
spoke.     Looking  at  her,  you  would  have  felt  your  very 


66  A  MALADY   OF  MIND  AND  BODY. 

heart  melt  with  compassion,  so  wild,  so  forlornly  misera- 
ble was  the  expression  of  that  sweet,  girlish  face. 

"  Abner,  Abner,  my  son,"  was  all  the  father  spoke  with 
his  blanched,  quivering  lips. 

The  momentary  flush  faded  from  the  sick  man's  fea- 
tures. I  stood  by  him  and  wiped  the  blood  from  his 
mouth,  and  I  knew  that  in  a  few  moments  all  would  be 
over.  There  was  no  struggle,  but  there  was  that  gathering 
shadow  on  his  forehead  which  is  so  terribly  understanda- 
ble. Seeing  this,  the  intense  despair  on  his  wife's  face 
grew,  and  her  hands  locked  themselves  involuntarily 
tighter,  till  blood  stained  the  smooth  palm  that  came 
in  contact  with  the  finger-nails.  Not  a  word  was  spo- 
ken, not  a  sound  broke  the  deep  stillness  of  the  cham- 
ber, but  the  indistinct  and  oppressive  breathing  of  the 
dying  man.  I  thought  it  grew  fainter  and  slower,  and  I 
bent  down  to  place  my  finger  on  the  wrist,  and  to  listen 
more  intently ;  but  the  old  man  waved  me  fiercely, 
jealously  away. 

"  Touch  him  not,"  he  said,  "  for  he  is  dead !" 

And  I  thought,  indeed,  that  it  was  so  ;  for  even  as  he 
spoke,  the  faint  respiration  suddenly  ceased,  and  the 
pallor  of  an  everlasting  unconsciousness  crept  slowly 
over  the  still  features.  But  in  another  moment,  I  saw 
that  life  was  not  yet  extinct.  The  eyes  again  partly 
unclosed  in  the  same  powerless,  dreamy  way  as  before, 
and  an  indescribable  radiance  for  an  instant  lit  up  the 
pale,  handsome  face — handsome  even  then,  but  with  an 
unearthly  beauty. 

"God!"  the  colorless  lips  muttered,  "God — there  is  a 
God !"  and  a  smile,  whose  serenity  I  have  never  seen 
equalled,  flickered  around  the  mouth.  Then  the  shadow 
deepened,  and  he  expired.  It  seemed  as  though  the 
soul    had  been  half   freed,   and,   returning,   gave  evi- 


A  MALADY  OF  MIND  AND  BODY.  67 

dence  of  that  eternity  which  it  but  partially  had  en- 
tered ! 

A  woman's  voice,  sobbing,  at  last  broke  the  dreary  si- 
lence. 

The  old  man  rose,  and  approaching  his  dead  son's  wife, 
said  feebly  : 

"  Esther,  be  comforted  ;  God  is  over  all." 
She  drew  her  hand  from  his  clasp  with  a  gesture  of 
unequivocal  abhorrence. 

"  Comfort !"  she  echoed,  with  a  great  defiant  flash  of 
her  black  eyes  ;  "  comfort !  you  preach  to  me  of  comfort ! 
Hypocrite !" — she  hissed  the  word  from  between  her 
closed  lips  with  startling,  indignant  energy.  "It  is 
all  clear  to  me  now.  Who  was  it  plotted  and  schemed 
to  bring  us  together  ?  "Who  tempted  him  into  marriage 
where  there  was  no  love  on  his  side — none,  none,  oh  my 
God — but  for  money  ?     Answer  me  that" 

Her  dark  hair  had  become  disentangled  of  its  fastening, 
and  now  fell,  in  wild,  confused  grace,  over  her  bare  shoul- 
ders. Her  white,  upraised  arms  glittered  in  the  bright 
light  of  the  lamps,  the  scarlet  ornaments  floated  from  the 
sleeves,  falling  over  them  in  vivid  contrast.  Never  shall 
I  forget  the  impression  created  by  that  indignant  appeal, 
and  the  tragic,  excited  beauty  of  that  injured  woman. 
All  this  was  many  years  ago,  yet  I  never  recall  that  Sab- 
bath night  without  a  shudder.  Frequent  as  are  terrible 
or  touching  scenes  in  the  life  of  a  physician,  I  remember 
none  that  own  power  so  to  unman  me  as  the  memory  of 
that.  And  the  sequel  was  no  less  sad.  Within  a  year 
another  grave  was  made  for  the  poor,  deceived  wife.  On 
the  death  of  her  husband,  she  sank  into  a  stupor  from 
which  nothing  could  arouse  her,  and  which  terminated 
at  last  in  rapid  consumption.  It  is  strange  that  I  should 
recollect  so  well  the  day  she  died.     It  is  as  new  in  my 


68  A  MALADY  OF  MIND  AND  BODY. 

mind  as  yesterday.  "White,  freshly-fallen  snow  lay  on 
the  ground.  It  had  come  early  that  year,  and  many 
leaves  were  still  hanging  crimsoned  on  their  boughs.  The 
trees  were  loaded  with  light  fleecy  fragments  of  snow, 
among  which  these  brilliantly-dyed  leaves-gleamed  out  in 
the  sunshine  like  blood  on  a  woman's  fair  face. 


INFIDELITY  OF  MEDICAL  MEN. 


INSTINCTIVE  IDEAS  OF  CREATIVE  POWER — THE  RED  GLOBULES  OP  THE  BLOOD 
— WHEN  AND  HOW  FORMED— EARLY  SUBSTITUTE  FOR  LUNGS  IN  THE  CHICK — 
USES  OF  THE  BED  AND  WHITE  GLOBULES — WHAT  IS  THE  LIFE  CELL? 

"  Spirit  of  Love  and  Beauty,  of  Order,  Justice  and  Truth — Great  Law-giver 
and  Soul  of  the  Universe— God  :  grant  me,  I  beseech  thee,  a  knowledge  of  thy 
will." 

"Whilst  the  Persian  bows  his  face  in  silent  adoration 
towards  the  Sun,  the  Mohammedan  reverently  salutes 
the  East  as  most  acceptable  to  the  Deity  in  his  thank- 
offering,  and  the  North  American  Indian  addresses  the 
same  glorious  Orb  of  light  and  life,  as  the  signet  of  the 
Great  Spirit  who  watches  over  the  happy  hunting-grounds 
of  the  departed,  the  Modern  Theosophist,  as  he  retails 
his  small  samples  of  sectarian  selfishness,  with  a  self- 
satisfied  assurance  of  their  superiority  to  those  of  hi3 
neighbors,  and  a  pious  upturning  of  the  eyes  and  windy 
suspiration,  gravely  and  self-complacently  regrets  the 
irreligion  of  the  unfortunate  disciples  of  Esculapius  and 
Harvey,  and  whilst  he  hopes  that  "  God,  in  his  mysterious 
providence,  will  yet  open  the  gates  of  Heaven  to  the 
wretched  infidel,"  he  fails  not  to  make  him  the  unwilling 
and  distressed  recipient  of  the  thrice-told  tale  of  his  cor- 
poreal woes,  and  characteristic  fear  of  death.  Truly,  the 
nations  which  we,  in  our  vanity,  call  heathen,  should  put 


70  INFIDELITY  OF  MEDICAL  MEN. 

our  quarrelsome  Theologians  to  the  blush  for  the  sublime 
simplicity  of  their  recognition  of  that  great  truth,  which 
medical  men  acknowledge,  not  only  from  the  same  instinc- 
tive conviction,  but  by  reason  of  the  very  nature  of  their 
pursuits. 

We  have  again  introduced  our  subject  with  a  defence 
of  our  profession  from  the  aspersions  of  that  self-satisfied 
sanctity,  that  contents  itself  with  a  wretched  formula  of 
piety,  and,  like  the  Pharisee,  in  all  its  actions,  thanks 
God  that  it  is  better  than  others.  Think  for  one  mo- 
ment, reader,  what  feelings  of  indignant  scorn  must  be 
excited  within  the  breast  of  that  man,  perhaps  a  father — 
a  father  who  has  closed  in  death  the  eyes  of  a  child — it 
may  be  an  only  child — a  wife  or  mother,  dear  to  him  on 
earth  as  the  hope  of  a  reunion  with  them  hereafter — 
think  what  feelings  of  contemptuous  pity  must  be  excited 
within  his  breast  for  the  mental  condition  of  the  poor 
creature  who  asks  him,  as  we  have  lately  been  asked  by 
one  of  them, — "  What  have  you  to  do  with  such  things  ? 
You  know  you  don't  believe  a  word  of  them."  And  is 
our  moral  worth  and  responsibility  to  be  determined  by 
men  who  cannot  expand  their  intellectual  vision  beyond 
a  pile  of  bricks  and  mortar,  fifty  by  a  hundred  feet,  who 
find  their  account  in  constant  appeals  to  the  supersti- 
tious fears  of  their  votaries,  and  in  quenching  the  earli- 
est glimmer  of  intellect  with  the  funeral  pall  of  a  be- 
nighted and  sectarian  theosophy  ? 

No  man  should  attempt  to  teach  the  will  of  God,  till 
he  becomes  familiar  with  the  laws  that  govern,  and  the 
phenomena  that  accompany  the  earliest  development  of 
his  body  ;  there  it  is  written  in  letters  of  living  light : 
obey  the  laws  of  the  body  and  you  obey  the  will  of  its  Cre- 
ator !  Least  of  all,  should  he  attempt  to  instruct  a  physi- 
cian, who,  by  education  and  his  daily  pursuits,  is  brought 


INFIDELITY  OF  MEDICAL  MEN.  71 

into  the  closest  relations  with  human  structure  and  frailty* 
and  whose  aspirations  for  a  better  state,  and  admiration 
of  the  great  leader,  who  has  taught  us  how  to  attain  it, 
ought  not,  one  would  think,  to  be  diminished  by  the 
privilege  of  daily  study  of  poor  humanity  in  its  multi- 
plied afflictions  ;  afflictions,  be  it  noted — and  we  speak 
what  all  our  profession  know  to  be  the  truth — that  none 
bear  with  less  fortitude  than  the  class  we  have  attempted 
to  portray  through  our  questioner.  Every  man  amongst 
us,  whose  moral  nature  is  not  debased  in  common  with 
a  bodily  organism  derived  from  ancestors  who  have 
studied  no  laws  either  mental  or  physical,  accepts  the  law 
of  Christ  as  the  acknowledged  guide  to  his  duty  on  earth  ; 
but  he  also  reads  a  living  volume  whose  first  page  was 
lighted  up  by  that  Sun  that  gave  LIFE  to  the  first  living 
atom,  millions  on  millions  of  years  before  the  birth  of  the 
great  law-giver,  or  the  creature  who  requires  his  aid  to 
enlighten  him  on  the  Divine  will.  But  this  will  never 
answer  ;  we  must  not  suffer  feeling  to  lead  us  astray 
from  instruction  ;  knowledge  is  the  only  remedy  for  big- 
otry and  sectarianism. 

Those  great  and  unchanging  principles,  those  organic 
everlasting  laws,  coeval  with  the  first  great  mandate,  "  Let 
there  be  light " — must  be  understood  by  every  man  who 
would  obey  the  law  of  God  ;  obey  them  and  you  obey  the 
will  of  the  Creator.  Light  and  life  for  the  body — light 
and  life  for  the  soul  :  they  are  written  in  letters  of  living 
truth  upon  every  blade  of  grass,  and  every  organism 
around  you.  The  humblest  mosses  and  their  microscopic 
flowers  of  either  sex,  and  the  little  violet  in  its  grassy 
nest,  shadow  forth  the  first  visible  lessons  of  life  in  silent 
beauty  and  sweetness,  from  their  many-colored  leaves  and 
lovely  petals  ;  the  pitcher-plants  of  our  pastures  and  the 
African  deserts,  as  they  dispense  their  beneficent  earth- 
4 


72  INFIDELITY  CF  MEDICAL  MEN. 

drawn  draught  to  the  little  feathered  wanderer  of  the  air 
and  the  thirsty  traveler,  the  tiny  humming-bird  as  he 
sips  the  nectar  from  its  lovely  laboratory,  both  itself  and 
its  contents  secreted  from  the  formless  and  tasteless 
gases  and  salts  of  the  earth,  the  wondrous  and  delicate 
aphis,  that  elaborates  from  its  vegetable  nutriment  the 
honey  dew  for  the  bee  and  the  ant,  and  carries,  so  subtle 
is  the  life-force,  three  generations  of  the  life  germ  within 
its  tiny  body — all  speak  to  thee  with  their  "  many  tongues, 
and  open  wide  their  pages  for  thy  soul  to  read."  All 
speak  the  laws  of  life  and  love  ;  attraction — secretion — 
elaboration — birth — change  ;  there  is  no  death ! 

"  Life  never  dies ; — but  verging  at  its  ease, 
From  sire  to  son  through  Nature's  vast  decrees. 
Its  destiny  to  fill,  the  body  falls." 

The  spark  that  animated  it  returns  to  the  great  source. 

In  letters  engraved  by  Cj eative  Power,  as  unchangea- 
ble as  the  mighty  source,  we  read— "The  life-force  of 
every  living  creature  is  proportioned  to  its  producers." 
It  will  be  quite  useless  to  attempt  to  read  this  article  un- 
derstandingly,  without  a  reference  to  the  great  nutritious 
and  formative  material  of  the  blood,  Albumen.  This  is  the 
great  starting  point,  whether  we  are  contemplating  the 
nourishment  of  our  bodies  by  our  daily  food,  the  chick  in 
the  egg  of  the  bird,  or  reptile,  the  human  germ  of  the 
female,  or  the  male — all  start  with  albumen  as  their 
basis.  This  substance,  in  connection  with  fat — which 
the  reader  will  remember,  can  never  become  a  living  part 
of  a  tissue,  but  is  only  distributed  throughout  the  body 
to  be  absorbed  and  burnt  in  the  lungs  during  starva- 
tion and  sickness — forms  every  animal  tissue,  or  mem- 
brane. Gum  held  in  solution  in  the  watery  parts  of  the 
sap,  and  thus  circulating  through  the  plant,  is  the  basis 


INFIDELITY  OP  MEDICAL  MEN.  73 

of  all  the  soft  vegetable  tissues  ;  whilst  Lignin,  or  woody 
fibre,  forms  the  wooden  skeleton  of  the  tree,  as  Phosphate 
of  Lime  does  our  bones.  This  albumen  is  held  in  solu- 
tion, or  rendered  liquid  and  capable  of  absorption  and 
conveyance  through  the  arteries  and  veins  of  the  body  to 
its  various  parts,  by  the  water  or  serum  of  the  blood, 
which,  as  we  have  said,  constitutes  full  three-fourths  of 
the  body. 

Albumen,  is  the  first  appearance  of  the  blood,  without 
its  red  particles  ;  of  course  it  precedes  the  formation  of 
the  bodily  organs,  as  they  are  all  formed  from  it.  The 
egg  of  the  bird  is  a  perfect  example  of  its  use,  in  the 
grand  role  of  nature. 

The  first  evidence  of  organic  life  in  all  animated  beings, 
as  revealed  by  the  microscope,  consists  of  a  single  sac  or 
cell,  precisely  like  a  little  vesicle,  inclosed  in  the  centre 
of  the  egg  ;  this  has  the  power  of  attracting  to  it  the 
albumen  of  the  egg,  which  furnishes  the  material  for  the 
formation  of  other  cells  growing  from  it,  and  assuming, 
during  gestation  or  incubation,  such  forms  as  were  in- 
tended, when  the  Almighty  first  created  the  type  of  its 
peculiar  genus. 

The  first  cell  impressed  by  Creative  Power,  leaves  the 
organism  of  the  male  during  the  sexual  union,  and  meets 
the  ovum  that  issues  from  the  ovarium  or  egg-bed  of  the 
female  in  the  womb.  That  mysterious  agent,  that  spark 
from  the  undiminished  Soukce  of  Life — gives  the  life- 
power  to  the  ovum  before  it  passes  through  its  appropri- 
ate duct  into  the  womb,  or  if  the  egg  of  the  bird,  into  its 
"  oviduct,"  whence  it  is  to  issue  from  the  body  ;  unitedly 
the  double  germ  acquires  power  to  attract  albumen  from 
the  blood  of  the  mother,  or  the  egg,  and  thus  to  form  the 
living  creature.  This  is  the  starting  point  of  animal 
organization  ;  the  cell  growth  of  the  physiologist.    The 


74:  INFIDELITY  OF  MEDICAL  MEN. 

minutest  of  the  vegetable  fungi,  or  the  mosses,  the  but- 
terfly, and  the  elephant,  are  alike  indebted  to  it  for  their 
growth. 

The  first  visible  evidence  of  life  in  the  egg,  occurs  at 
the  twenty-seventh  hour,  when  the  outlines  of  the  heart 
are  apparent ;  it  is  thus  early  formed  entirely  of  albu- 
men or  white  blood,  and  it  is  sufficient  in  its  power  of 
contraction  for  the  circulation  within  the  egg.  As  soon 
as  the  foetus,  or  chick,  breathes  the  outer  or  atmospheric 
air,  the  blood  becomes  far  more  stimulating  :  it  is  fibrin- 
ized  and  imparts  greater  powers  of  contraction  to  the 
heart,  and  all  other  muscles.  The  heart  is  extremely 
simple  in  form,  being  a  mere  dilated  bulbous  blood-ves- 
sel ;  receiving  the  rudiments  of  its  veins  behind,  and 
sending  off  arteries  on  its  front  surface  ;  soon  it  appears 
divided  into  three  cavities  ;  the  fourth  one,  intended  to 
fit  it  for  propelling  the  blood  through  the  lungs,  is  not 
yet  perfected,  but  it  is  reserved  for  a  more  advanced  state 
of  the  organism,  viz.,  when  the  lungs  are  used.  The 
heart,  during  the  earlier  weeks,  is  like  that  of  a  fish  or 
oyster — the  simplest  form,  and  quite  insufficient  for  a 
breathing  animal. 

The  central  living  and  life-creating  germ,  attracts  to 
itself  and  appropriates  to  the  formation  of  the  intended 
being,  first  the  albumen  of  the  yolk  and  its  oil,  gradually 
approaching  the  yolk  sac,  and  then  the  colorless  albumen 
that  surrounds  the  egg,  or  what  is  commonly  called  the 
white.  In  the  egg  of  the  bird,  when  this  store  of  mate- 
rial is  exhausted,  the  chick  is  complete  ;  in  the  human 
ovum,  the  microscopic  smallness  of  the  quantity  of  albu- 
men in  the  germ,  proves  the  necessity  of  its  speedy 
connection  by  blood  vessels  with  the  womb.  The  mother's 
blood  is  the  material  that  forms  the  new  creature.  This 
is  effected  by  the  life  or  blood-attracting  membrane  lining 


INFIDELITY  OF  MEDICAL  MEN.  75 

that  organ,  and  the  corresponding  rough  envelope  of  the 
minute  ovum  ;  they  interlock  their  fibres,  which  soon 
become  elongated,  and  assume  the  number  of  two  arteries 
and  a  vein,  between  the  uterus  and  the  child.  All  these 
appendages  are  deciduous  in  all  the  mammalia,  and  are 
thrown  off  when  the  product  assumes  independent  life. 
They  form  the  placenta,  or  after-birth. 

"We  will  now  speak  of  the  red  globules,  or  that  part  of 
the  blood  which  causes  the  red  color  ;  these  globules 
serve  an  admirable  purpose  in  tracing  the  formation  of 
the  blood  vessels  in  the  egg,  and  one  much  more  intelligi- 
ble to  the  learner,  because  of  their  color  rendering  them 
visible  ;  we  must  remember,  however,  that  the  heart  is 
earliest  formed  by  white  blood,  i.  e.  fibrine  and  albumen, 
and  is  quite  visible  before  the  red  globules  exist. 

But  how,  says  the  reader,  does  the  blood  become  red 
within  the  egg-shell?  No  such  color  is  visible  in  the 
recently  opened  fresh  egg ;  nor  is  there  ;  because  the 
life  power,  i.  e.  the  attractive  power,  has  not  yet  been 
lighted  up  ;  warmth  will  soon  show  its  power  to  fan  the 
latent  spark  of  life.  Air  is  doubtless  the  cause  of  the 
redness  ;  we  reason  from  its  action  on  the  purple  blood 
of  the  veins  going  through  the  lungs  in  the  adult  animal ; 
air,  it  is  proved,  gives  the  blood  its  arterial  red  hue,  so 
unlike  that  of  the  veins  which  bring  no  other  than  dark  col- 
ored blood  to  the  heart.  The  air  undoubtedly  passes 
through  the  pores  of  the  egg-shell.  Fortunately  the  origin 
of  the  red  globules  themselves,  is  partially  known. 

Remember  now,  we  are  still  confining  our  observations 
to  the  earliest  appearance  of  life,  in  the  egg  during  incu- 
bation ;  consequently  we  cannot  refer  to  food  as  their 
origin,  for  the  chick  is  not  yet  formed ;  nor  can  it  get 
any  other  food  than  the  albumen,  even  when  it  has  be- 
come so  large  as  to  be  moving  briskly  within  the  egg ; 


76  INFIDELITY  OF  MEDICAL  MEN. 

therefore  the  red  globules  are  formed  from  that  substance 
alone,  and  air,  for  they  are  to  be  distinctly  seen  by  the 
third  day  ;  and  what  will  strike  the  general  reader  with 
amazement  is  the  fact  alluded  to  in  our  last,  that  they 
first  appear  in  little  patches  having  no  visible  connection 
whatever  with  each  other,  nor  yet  with  the  little  white 
heart  which  is  already  distinctly  formed  by  the  fibrine 
and  albumen  of  the  egg  ;  it  is  white  because  it  has  as  yet 
received  no  red  blood. 

These  little  red  islands  of  living  blood  stretch  out  their 
radiating  vessels  like  the  roots  of  a  tree,  towards  the 
heart,  and  towards  each  other  ;  and  by  the  fifth  day  we 
have  before  us,  when  we  open  the  egg,  a  distinctly  formed 
and  pulsating  heart,  with  two  large  branches  and  a  great 
net-work  of  blood  vessels,  spreading  around  and  com- 
plely  enveloping  the  yolk  of  the  egg. 

The  first  rudiments  of  the  heart  appear,  as  we  have 
already  said,  by  the  twenty-seventh  hour.  The  reader 
may  possibly  remember  that  the  heart  has  been  said  to 
be  in  its  earliest  form  like  that  of  a  fish.  This  is  true  in  a 
degree  ;  before  they  breathe  the  air  of  the  outer  world, 
both  the  chick  and  the  human  embryo  have  no  occasion 
for  the  two  additional  chambers  necessary  for  the  circu- 
lation of  the  blood  through  the  lungs.  These,  as  we  shall 
see  hereafter,  are  more  gradually  developed  and  not  fit 
for  their  ofiice  until  the  chick  or  infant  can  receive  the 
air  in  the  lungs. 

The  blood  vessels  are  exceedingly  simple  in  their 
arrangement  in  this  single  heart ;  this  wonderful  organ 
is  at  first  nothing  more  than  a  tube  at  the  upper  part  of 
the  chest,  receiving  its  veins  behind,  and  sending  forth 
its  arteries  before  ;  there  is  but  one  large  artery,  which 
subdivides  into  branches  as  it  ascends  to  the  neck  and 
descends  to  the  body.    This  greater  artery  gradually 


INFIDELITY  OP  MEDICAL  MEN.  77 

assumes  the  form  of  a  posterior  chamber,  called  an  auri- 
cle, simply  because  it  is  thought  to  resemble  an  ear ; 
this  receives  the  blood  returning  from  its  circuit  after  it 
has  performed  its  duties  among  the  net-work  of  vessels 
enveloping  the  heart  of  the  chick,  or  throughout  the  body 
of  the  infant.     This  auricle,  or  entrance  chamber,  commu- 
nicates with  the  ventricle,  (so-called  from  veniriculus,  the 
stomach,)  and  from  this  proceeds  the  great  single  artery 
which,  by  its  subdivision,  conveys  the  blood  to  the  mem- 
branes enveloping  the  chick,  and  to  every  part  of  its 
body.     But  now  of  these  membranes,  what  are  they  ?    It 
has  probably  already  occurred  to  the  intelligent  and 
thoughtful  reader,  that  as  the  red  part  of  the  blood  de- 
rives its  vivid  scarlet  color  in  the  arteries  from  the  air, 
and  has  lost  it  by  the  time  it  gets  into  the  veins  in  its 
return  to  the  heart,  after  performing  the  duties  of  growth 
in  the  embryo,  whether  of  the  chick  or  human  being, 
there  ought  to  be  within  the  shell  of  the  egg  some  sub- 
stitute for  the  lungs  of  the  perfect  bird  ;  and  so  there  is  ; 
we  have  reserved  its  description  for  fear  of  complicating 
the  subject.     Do  not  forget,  however,  that  the  mother 
breathes  for  her  child  before  its  birth,  for  it  is  part  of  her- 
self ;  not  so  with  the  egg  of  the  bird  ;  we  have  said  noth- 
ing as  yet  of  the  formation  of  the  intestines  and  stomach  ; 
now  it  becomes  necessary  to  allude  to  them,  because  it  is 
a  prolongation  of  the  intestine,  as  it  were,  that  nature  uses 
in  this  early  stage  of  the  development  of  the  chick  as 
the  lungs.     Nothing  more  is  necessary  to  fulfill  all  the 
purpose  of  the  lungs,  than  the  conveyance  of  the  venous 
blood  where  it  can  imbibe  the  external  air  through  the 
delicate  coats  of  the  vessels,  and  the  pores  of  the  egg- 
shell. 

The  lungs,  it  will  be  remembered,  we  have  several 
times  compared  to  a  bunch  of  grapes,  with  the  pulp  or 


78  INFIDELITY  OF  MEDICAL  MEN. 

body  of  the  grape,  and  the  pith,  of  each  stalk,  supposed  to 
be  removed,  leaving  nothing  but  the  skin  of  each  grape 
attached  to  its  hollow  stalk  ;  it  will  be  readily  seen  that 
by  blowing  air  into  the  main  stalk,  all  the  lesser  ones,  as 
well  as  the  skin  of  each  grape,  would  be  inflated  with  air. 
Now  it  is  around  the  circumference  and  through  the 
walls  of  the  delicate  linings  of  the  myriads  of  air  cells  of 
the  lungs  as  each  communicates  with  its  little  tube,  and 
each  tube  in  turn  with  one  larger  and  larger  till  all  the 
branches  from  each  lung  end  in  the  wind-pipe,  where  the 
air  rushes  in,  that  the  deadly  carbonic  acid  of  the  used 
blood  is  thrown  off,  and  the  life-giving  oxygen  of  the  air 
imbibed. 

But  now  let  us  describe  the  beautiful  substitute  for 
lungs  in  the  chick,  and  admire  the  wonderful  economy 
of  means  always  visible  in  Nature's  works.  There  is 
found  in  the  embryo  of  birds  an  exceedingly  delicate 
membranous  structure  connected  with  the  intestines ; 
of  course  all  its  blood  vessels  come  from  that  membranous 
tract ;  this  subsidiary  and  temporary  membrane  is  pro- 
duced by  the  intestine.  It  is  a  delicate  membrane 
passing  from  the  intestine  within  the  embryo  bird,  to 
the  outside  of  the  yolk  bag,  and  completely  envelopes  it. 
It  is  situated  directly  under  the  shell  of  the  egg,  and 
receives  the  oxygen  of  the  air  through  the  shell  Who- 
ever in  his  childish  curiosity  has  opened  a  hen's  egg  at 
the  latter  period  of  incubation,  cannot  fail  to  have  seen 
the  great  branching  blood  vessels  spreading  all  over  just 
under  the  shell  upon  the  tough,  membranous  bag  that 
holds  the  chick.  Often  has  our  own  heart  beat  rapidly 
as  we  saw  the  first  movements  of  the  little  creature' be- 
neath it,  and  a  sigh  escaped  our  breast  when  we  thought 
of  our  diminished  family  of  littlo  chicks,  always  so  delight- 
ful to  the  fresh  and  joyous  heart  of  boyhood. 


INFIDELITY  OP  MEDICAL  MEN.  79 

Now  the  reader  mil  please  to  remember  that  this  sub- 
stitute for  the  lungs  is  in  full  play,  till  the  chick  breathes 
the  outer  air  by  means  of  its  own  proper  and  then  per- 
fectly developed  lungs  inside  its  body.  Enough  of  air 
could  not  enter  its  tiny  beak,  even  if  the  complicated 
and  half-developed  lung  inside  were  perfect  at  the  first 
week  of  incubation  ;  it  is  a  great  extent  of  surface  that 
is  wanting  ;  because  the  air  can  but  slowly  penetrate  the 
shell,  and  were  it  not  for  the  great  surface  completely 
enveloping  the  chick  and  in  contact  with  the  shell,  en- 
ough oxygen  to  vitalize  the  blood  could  not  be  absorbed, 
and  the  chick  would  not  grow.  Other  and  important 
offices  are  performed  by  an  analogous  structure  in  quad- 
rupeds and  the  human  being,  which  we  shall  allude  to 
hereafter  when  speaking  of  the  bladder,  with  which  it  is 
intimately  connected. 

Quitting  now  for  a  moment  the  consideration  of  the 
heart  and  lungs,  (for  we  shall  be  obliged  to  make  their 
uses  the  subject  of  a  second  paper, )  we  must  endeavor  to 
trace  in  what  manner  the  seemingly  independent  red 
globules  become  inclosed  within  the  blood  vessels  and 
connected  with  the  heart ;  for  that  is  the  living  engine 
that  is  to  compel  each  one  of  them  to  make  the  entire 
circuit  of  the  body  every  few  minutes  as  long  as  life 
lasts.  We  chose  in  our  last  the  expressive  selection  of 
the  wool,  the  spun  yarn  and  the  woven  cloth,  to  show  the 
uses  of  albumen,  the  fibrine,  and  the  perfectly  formed 
membrane.  And  it  will  be  recollected  also  that  all  our 
preceding  articles  on  the  materials  of  the  tissues  were 
designed  to  prepare  the  reader  for  the  mode  of  their  for- 
mation and  their  diseases. 

We  may  here  anticipate  what  we  have  to  say  on  their 
uses  so  much  as  to  offer  a  highly  probable  idea,  that  each 
red  globule  is  in  all  probability  a  cell  of  latent  life.    These, 


80  A  MALADY  OF  MIND  AND  BODY. 

when  arranged  in  lines,  as  seen  in  the  egg  on  the  third 
day  of  incubation,  resembling  to  the  eye  a  continuous 
blood  vessel,  either  pointing  towards  the  heart  or  towards 
another  similar  red  line  of  globules,  must  attract  to  them- 
selves the  albumen  of  the  egg,  and,  like  the  chrysalis, 
weave  round  themselves  their  own  arterial  tube !  Here  we 
have  no  power  but  that  originally  impressed  by  the  Crea- 
tor when  he  said,  "Let  there  be  light!"  The  wondrous 
power  first  derived  from  the  undiminished  Soul  of  nature, 
God,  is  continued  through  the  mystic  chain  from  the  first 
atom  that  ever  passed  from  its  Almighty  Source.  Mil- 
lions on  millions  of  years  it  has  continued  its  mission — 
millions  on  millions  more  will  His  glorious  signet,  the  life- 
giving  Sun,  continue  to  vitalize  the  elements  and  render 
them  to  their  divine  Originator,  an  offering  fit  to  beautify 
this  magnificent  theatre  of  Almighty  power. 

What  then  is  this  life  ?  who  is  this  great  moulder  of  the 
elements  ?  The  only  answer  yet  permitted  us,  is  amply 
sufficient  to  satisfy  the  mind  of  the  true  philosopher.  If 
we  rightly  view  the  continuous  chain  of  organic  life  as 
revealed  by  the  zoologist,  we  shall  unquestionably  find 
that  man  occupies  a  position  "  midway  from  nothing  to 
the  Deity." 

The  sublime  page  of  physiology  teaches  the  calm  and 
humane  student  of  nature,  that  the  first  organic  atom 
the  imagination  can  conceive,  even  the  humblest  of  the 
masses  that  ever  opened  its  leaves  to  the  atmosphere,  or 
the  minutest  of  the  infusoria  that  ever  moved  in  the  wa- 
ters, not  only  implied  the  necessity  of  every  subsequent 
organic  being  up  to  the  oak  or  to  proud  man,  but  it  gives 
him  equal  assurance  that  he  little  knows  in  what  more 
perfect  state  of  existence,  far,  far  beyond  his  finite  view, 
he  shall  approximate  even  on  this  earth  the  Great  Source 
whence  he  derived  his  beinsr. 


AN   UNDELIVERED   AND   UNORTHODOX   AD- 
DRESS. 


THE  THIRD  ANNIVERSARY  ORATION  FOR  THE  NEW  YORK  ACADEMY  OF  MEDICINE, 
WHICH  WAS  NOT  DELIVERED  BEFORE  THAT  REMARKABLE  BODY,  BUT  OUGHT  TO 
HAVE  BEEN,  AT  THEIR  ANNUAL  MEETING,  HELD  IN  THE  CHAPEL  OF  THE  UNIVER- 
SITY, NOVEMBER  14Tn,  1849,  BY  THE  PHYSICIAN  WHO  WAS  NOT  ELECTED  FOR 
THAT  OCCASION.  (PUBLISHED  WITHOUT  THE  KNOWLEDGE  OR  CONSENT  OF  THE 
ACADEMY.*) 

Ladies  and  Gentlemen  : — The  occasion  of  our  assem- 
bling together  this  evening,  is  one  of  deep  interest  and 
great  importance.  It  is  the  annual  opportunity  afforded 
us  of  reminding  you  of  our  existence,  and  informing  you 
of  our  value.  The  fact  of  our  existence  is  demonstrated 
by  our  appearance,  in  propriis  personis,  in  numero,  et 
extenso.  Excuse  the  occasional  use  of  the  learned  lan- 
guages, ■which  I  may  feel  it  requisite  to  resort  to  in  the 
course  of  my  address  ;  for  when  I  think  of  our  persons, 
our  numbers,  and  the  extent  of  our  acquirements  and 
influence,  I  confess  that  I  am  at  a  loss  for  language  in 
my  vernacular  tongue,  and  am  obliged  to  draw  upon  the 
resources  of  the  noble  languages  of  Rome  and  Greece. 

It  being  an  admitted  fact,  or  as  that  lively  and  ingeni- 
ous people,  the  French,  would  say,  un  fait  accompli,  that 

*  To  "the  Fellows"  of  the  New  York  Academy  of  Medicine,  who  advertised 
themselves  alphabetically  in  the  New  York  Directory,  as  the  "  Medical  Profes- 
sion Proper,"  this  very  inadequate  appreciation  of  their  worth,  and  imperfect 
exhibition  of  their  merits,  is  gratuitously  prescribed  by  the  Editor, 


82  AN  UNDELIVERED  ADDRESS. 

> 

we  have  an  existence, — although  it  is  doubted  by  skeptics, 
and  denied  by  revilers — it  is  my  pleasing  task  to  detail 
to  you  the  inestimable  blessing  which  we  are  to  this  City 
in  particular, — to  the  Community  in  general,  and  to  the 
World  at  large, — and  the  indisputable  claims  which  we 
therefore  have,  to  the  patronage  of  all  who  can  pay  for 
medical  attendance — and  to  the  possession  of  the  medi- 
cal officers  of  the  State. 

The  French  Academy  has  filled  the  world  with  its 
renown,  and  immortalized  itself  by  the  most  splendid 
achievements  in  science  and  learning.  The  United 
States  has  now  an  Academy,  and  New  York  has  given  it 
birth.  Whence  arose  the  science  and  learning  of 
France  ?  From  the  Academy !  Now  that  New  York  has 
an  Academy,  science  and  learning,  of  course,  will  flour- 
ish here.  All  that  she  needed  was  an  Academy — and 
that  she  now  has.     Vivat  Academia  Novi  Eboraci ! 

The  sober  and  significant  silence  with  which  you  re- 
ceived my  last  remarks,  gives  me  full  assurance  of  your 
appreciation  of  their  merits.  Indeed,  the  entire  absence 
of  discussion  or  observation,  relating  to  our  merits  or 
value — with  the  exception  of  the  scurrilous  portion  of  the 
press,  and  a  bastard — I  beg  pardon — an  unorthodox 
medical  journal,  gives  us  the  most  comfortable  assurance 
that  we  are  fully  appreciated  as  far  as  we  are  known,  and 
that  all  we  need  to  give  us  our  merited  position  is  publi- 
city. What  Isocrates  said  of  the  institution  of  the 
Mysteries,  may,  with  greater  truth,  be  said  of  our  Acad- 
emy. "It  i3  the  thing  that  New  York  most  evidently 
needed." 

What  would  our  city  be  without  our  Academy?  Its 
augmenting  commerce,  and  increasing  immigration,  al- 
though the  two  great  sources  of  our  riches  and  our  glory 
— but  for  our  science  and  skill,  would  lead  to  our  dissolu- 


AN  UNORTHODOX  ADDKESS.  83 

tion  as  a  country,  and  our  decimation  as  a  people.  Ship 
fever,  yellow  fever,  cholera,  and  a  hundred  other 
diseases  of  most  fearful  character,  would,  during  the  last 
three  years,  have  spread  over  the  land,  but  for  our  timely 
interference.  On  this  subject  I  claim  your  serious  and 
attentive  consideration,  and  hope  you  will  be  as  inter- 
ested and  absorbed  in  the  subject,  as  Dido  was  in  the 
story  of  Eneas,  who  is  described  as  "  Ore  pendente 
narrante," — suspending  with  breathless  interest  on  the 
narration. 

The  great  question  to  be  decided,  in  these  cases,  was, 
whether  they  should  be  considered  as  contagious,  or  not. 
Numerous  and  important  interests  were  depending  upon 
our  decision.  If  we  pronounced  that  they  were  conta- 
gious, a  fearful  discouragement  would  be  given  to  com- 
merce, and  many  of  our  best  paying  citizens  would 
remove  their  families  from  the  city,  to  the  great  loss  of 
our  tradesmen  and — ourselves.  As  we  have  always 
regarded  our  interests  and  our  principles  as  identical,  we 
oould  not,  of  course,  come  to  such  an  unprofitable  con- 
clusion. If  we  pronounced  against  the  theory  of  conta- 
gion, we  should  be  obliged  to  account  for  every  fresh 
case, — by  the  condition  of  the  air,  the  people,  or  the 
streets  ; — and  although  that  might  give  us  a  great  deal 
of  trouble,  and  put  the  city  to  a  great  expense,  yet  as  we 
should  be  pretty  certain  to  profit  by  the  trouble,  and  pay 
little  if  any  of  the  expense,  we  decided,  on  the  whole,  that 
the  diseases  were  not  contagious — at  least,  for  the 
present. 

There  were  persons  who  had  the  temerity  to  say,  that 
it  was  of  no  consequence  what  our  decision  might  be,  or 
whether  we  came  to  one  at  all !  for  that  the  facts  and 
truths  of  the  case  could  not  be  affected  by  our  decision. 
Such  persons  showed  themselves  utterly  unacquainted 


84  AN  UNDELIVEBED  ADDBESS. 

with  the  first  principles  of  our  Academy.  Could  it  be 
supposed  that  we  took  the  trouble  consequent  on  such 
an  Institution — and  endured  the  expenses  incident  to  it — 
for  the  mere  purpose  of  gathering  up  such  facts,  and 
truths,  as  were  apparent  and  evident  to  the  ordinary 
community?  Undoubtedly  it  was  the  province  of  the 
Academy  to  furnish  both  the  facts  and  the  truths. 
Had  they  done  nothing  more  than  collect  and  classify  the 
occurrences  of  the  day,  they  would  simply  have  per- 
formed the  work  of  the  penny-a-liners  of  the  press,  with- 
out even  obtaining  their  penny-a-line. 

On  the  service  which  we  rendered  to  this  city  and 
country,  and  especially  to  the  profession,  during  the 
the  prevalence  of  the  late  epidemic,  I  venture  to  stake 
the  value  of  our  corporate  existence.  I  firmly  believe, 
and  unhesitatingly  declare,  that  great  numbers  of  cases 
of  cholera,  never  would  have  been  discovered,  much  less 
reported,  had  it  not  been  for  our  untiring  zeal  and  dili- 
gence. 

Many  cases  of  diarrhea,  dysentery,  drunkenness  and 
even  fever,  would  have  been  entirely  omitted  from  the 
cholera  reports,  but  for  us.  In  order  to  bring  the  pro- 
fession, and  especially  the  Academy,  before  the  public, 
in  a  sufficiently  prominent  manner,  it  was  requisite  to 
array  a  formidable  amount  of  disease  before  them,  in 
order  to  justify  the  number  of  the  medical  troops  which 
they  were  called  upon  to  sustain. 

A  Board  of  Health  was  established,  a  Sanitary  Com- 
mittee appointed,  and  the  utmost  diligence  enjoined. 
Many  cases  were  discovered  which  had  never  been  sus- 
pected, either  by  the  physician  or  the  patient ;  and  more 
had  been  so  completely  overlooked,  as  to  have  escaped 
any  medical  treatment  at  all.  We  rejoice  to  be  able  to 
say,   that  almost  all  these  cases  terminated  favorably. 


AN  UNORTHODOX  ADDRESS.  85 

This,  no  doubt,  is  to  be  attributed  to  the  benign  influ- 
ence upon  these  persons,  arising  from  their  implicit 
confidence  in  the  wisdom  of  those  to  whom  the  health 
of  the  city  was  intrusted. 

It  is  however  to  be  admitted,  that  there  were  some 
persons  who  doubted  the  very  existence  of  cholera,  and 
many  who  doubted  its  prevalence.  Never  was  the  wis- 
dom of  Heaven  and  Earth  more  manifest,  than  in  the 
established  existence  of  our  Academy  at  this  critical  con- 
juncture. Notwithstanding  that  there  are  two  medical 
colleges  in  this  city,  each  amply  supplied  with  a  corps 
of  professors,  fully  capable  of  deciding  any  question  of 
ordinary  medical  importance — yet  on  such  a  question 
as  this,  no  body  of  the  profession  could  be  supposed 
capable  of  sitting  in  judgment,  except  the  Academy. 
Indeed  the  Fellows  of  this  learned  institution  seem  to 
me  to  occupy,  in  our  age,  the  place  of  the  Kritoi  of 
Athens,  of  whom  Cicero  says  :  "  legum  morumque  hu- 
manitatis  exempla,  hominibus,  ac  civitatibus  data,  esse 
dicuntur."  That  is,  "  They  were  given  to  man  and  the 
civilized  world,  to  be  examples  of  the  laws  and  morals 
of  humanity." 

Doubtless,  the  question  will  occur  to  you,  "  what  mode 
of  treatment  did  you  recommend  in  this  disease  ?"  We 
are  ready  to  answer  the  question  most  explicitly.  We 
recommended  the  most  thorough  orthodox  treatment ; 
Bleeding,  where  any  blood  could  be  obtained,  in  order 
to  lessen  its  quantity — calomel  in  large  doses,  to  change 
its  quality — opium  in  powerful  doses,  to  stupefy  the 
senses — and  external  violent  stimulating  applications, 
to  rouse  the  stupefied  sensations.  With  proud  exulta- 
tion do  we  look  back  upon  the  science  and  learning 
which  we  displayed  in  our  treatment  of  cholera,  and 


86  AN  UNDELIVEEED  ADDEESS. 

challenge  the  world  to  furnish  a  mode  of  treatment 
comparable  to  it. 

We  have  indeed  sanctioned  many  other  modes  of 
treatment,  as  experimental,  so  that  our  sphere  of  ob- 
servation has  been  most  ample ;  yet  we  have  not 
found  any  mode  so  safe  as  the  orthodox  one.  If  any 
person  suppose  that  the  lives  of  those  who  were  sub- 
jected to  the  various  modes  of  treatment,  were  necessarily 
tampered  with  and  placed  in  greater  peril  than  those 
under  orthodox  treatment,  we  are  happy  to  be  able  to 
relieve  you  from  the  fears  which  you  might  naturally 
entertain,  by  informing  you  that  every  mode  of  treatment 
was  alike  uncertain  and  unsuccessful.  Do  what  we 
would,  the  real  cases  of  cholera  all  seemed  to  die. 
"Pallida  Mors,  cequo  pede  pulsat  pauperum  tabernas,  re- 
gumque  turres."  m 

"  Pale  death,  with  equal  step,  for  rich  and  poor, 
Knocks  at  the  palace  and  the  cottage  door." 

Considering  the  fact,  that  very  few  respectable  persons 
died  of  the  disease,  we  presume  that  your  anxiety  is  very 
much  diminished,  and  that  you  will,  like  us,  content 
yourselves  with  submitting  to  the  will  of  Providence, 
and  thank  God  that,  whoever  it  took,  it  did  not  take  you. 
All  that  science  could  do,  was  done.  Miracles  are  not 
to  be  expected,  and  we  are  conscious  of  our  imperfection 
as  physicians  as  well  as  men.  Death,  moreover,  is  a 
necessary  part  of  this  system.  As  our  excellent-hearted 
and  profoundly  observant  friend,  Shallow,  has  remarked  ; 
"Death,  as  the  Psalmist  saith, — is  certain  to  all — all 
shall  die !" 

But  let  us  not  look  on  the  gloomy  side  only  of  the 
picture.  The  death  of  the  cholera  patients  has  been  the 
very  life  of  the   Academy.     The  Board  of  Health  has 


AN  UNORTHODOX  ADDRESS.  87 

been  established,  and  in  constant  and  successful  opera- 
tion for  more  than  half  the  year.  Some  of  our  most 
needy  and  deserving  members  have  been  comfortably 
provided  for,  and  helped  into  practice.  Several  have 
been  appointed  as  ward  physicians,  who  were  hardly 
heard  of  before — and  many  have  had  their  bills  paid  by 
the  Corporation,  (on  the  recommendation  of  the  Board 
of  Health,)  who  had  scarcely  experienced  such  an  occur- 
rence hitherto.  "Whatever  the  Board  of  Health,  (the 
origin  and  supervision  of  which  we  claim,)  may  not  have 
done,  undoubtedly  it  has  done  great  good  for  that  por- 
tion of  the  profession  who  were  members  of  the  Academy. 
We  regret  that  a  few  medical  gentlemen,  for  whom  we 
entertain  some  respect,  have  not  joined  us  ;  because,  not 
only  is  every  dollar  that  we  can  obtain  needed — but  as 
our  object,  from  the  formation  of  the  Academy,  has  been 
to  impress  the  public  with  the  belief  that  we  represent 
the  science  and  moral  worth  of  the  profession,  every 
defection  of  able  and  honorable  men  is  a  great  loss  to  us. 
Like  the  Augurs  of  Rome,  we  need  every  aid  that  can  be 
obtained,  to  keep  us  in  countenance. 

It  has  not  escaped  our  notice,  that  the  surplice  and 
gown  of  the  clergy  have  had  their  use,  and  we  seriously 
think  of  adopting  a  medical  dress,  which  will  vastly  assist 
our  dignity.  In  some  countries  which  we  have  visited, 
the  doctors  wear  a  peculiar  hat  or  cap,  and  black  tight 
pantaloons,  silk  stockings,  and  pumps ;  a  great  deal, 
however,  will  depend  upon  what  sort  of  legs,  on  the 
whole,  the  Academy  possesses  ;  and  much  will  be  left  to 
the  taste  of  the  ladies,  who — God  bless  them! — have 
always  been  our  best  patrons — especially  the  elder  ones  I 
A  committee  will  be  appointed  to  confer  with  them  on 
this  very  important  subject. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  we  have  overlooked  the 


88  AN  UNDELIVEKED  ADDEESS. 

apparently  minor  matters  of  beards,  spectacles,  neck- 
cloths, and  gloves.  On  the  contrary,  we  have  paid  great 
attention  to  all  these  matters.  The  practice  of  the  clergy 
in  these  things  is  our  general  rule  ;  and  as  their  dress 
and  appearance  have  usually  been  taken  from  the  habits 
of  monastic  life,  which  were  adopted  for  the  purpose  of 
'  impressing  the  people  with  a  firm  belief  in  the  learning 
and  sanctity  of  the  monks,  we  cannot  have  a  better 
pattern  to  imitate.  The  rule,  therefore,  is  thorough  shav- 
ing, gold  spectacles,  white  neckcloths,  and  black  gloves. 
If  a  ring  be  worn,  it  ought  to  be  a  massive  one  ;  a  mourn- 
ing one  is  the  best.  It  has  the  appearance  of  being  the 
gift  of  some  deceased  wealthy  friend,  relative  or  patient. 

We  have  long  had  a  most  thorough  conviction  of  the 
importance  of  a  carriage,  and  a  pew  at  church.  "We 
admire  the  newly  adopted  plan  of  a  massive  silver  plate, 
with  the  name  on  the  pew  door.  It  is  undoubtedly  a 
very  necessary  part  of  our  profession  to  show  a  respect 
for  religion — or  at  least  for  the  clergy. 

Our  younger  brethren  will  find  it  one  of  the  most  cer- 
tain modes  of  obtaining  notoriety,  and  gaining  friends 
and  practice,  to  attend  steadily  at  some  respectable 
church.  We  would  principally  recommend  the  Presby- 
terian or  Episcopal  Church,  as  they  are  most  influential 
and  wealthy.  Still,  there  are  other  respectable  denom- 
inations— and  much  depends  on  circumstances.  "  Ver- 
bum  sapientice  sufficit." 

I  now  approach  the  most  important  part  of  my  dis- 
course— the  denouncement  and  anathematization  of  all 
irregular  practice  and  practitioners — a  task  which  I  feel 
great  pleasure  and  satisfaction  in  performing,  as  I,  in 
common  with  my  brethren,  have  suffered  exceedingly, 
both  in  person  and  purse,  from  these  vampires  of  the 
profession.     Our  learned  President  has  most  zoologically 


AN  UNORTHODOX  ADDRESS.  89 

said,  "  all  kinds  of  cattle  are  permitted  to  practice  medi- 
cine in  this  State !"  I  take  the  liberty  to  add  to  that 
scientific  sentiment,  one  of  my  own,  "  All  sorts  of  reptiles, 
also."  "Why,  we  have  Thompsonians — Eeformed  Practi- 
tioners— Eclectics — Hydropathists — and  Homeopathists  ; 
— besides  Chrono-thermalism,  and  that  greatest  of  all 
innovations,  the  Throat  Disease  Treatment ! 

I  shall  spend  as  much  of  my  time  on  each  of  these  as 
my  limits  will  enable  me  ;  and  I  beg  to  assure  you,  if  I 
do  not  succeed  in  annihilating  these  reptiles,  it  is  not 
from  want  of  intention,  but  solely  from  want  of  power 
and  opportunity.  To  begin  with  the  Thompsonians. 
Their  practice  consists  in  the  use  of  lobelia. — a  substance 
so  fearfully  injurious,  that  I  have  carefully  and  conscien- 
tiously abstained  from  knowing  anything  about  it  I 
should  as  soon  think  of  administering  liquid  fire  to  my 
patients.  If  any  of  you  have  unhappily  fallen  under  the 
maltreatment  of  one  of  these  reptiles,  you  can  tell  more 
than  I  can  of  their  mode  of  treatment ;  all  that  I  know 
of  them  is,  that  they  are  exceedingly  ignorant,  vulgar, 
and  dangerous  persons.  In  the  words  of  Hamlet  to  the 
players,  I  say,  "  Pray  you,  avoid  them." 

Of  the  Reformed  Practitioners,  something  more  is 
known — because  one  of  them  has  published  a  book.  It 
is  true  that  I  have  not  read  it ;  I  should  feel  degraded  if 
I  had  ;  but  I  am  informed  by  those  who  have  heard  much 
about  it,  that  the  principal  value  of  the  work  consists  in 
its  piracies  from  our  orthodox  authors.  It  is  affirmed, 
on  good  authority,  that  the  author,  or  rather  the  com- 
piler of  this  wretched  production,  sent  a  copy  to  every 
crowned  head  in  Europe,  and  received  from  almost  all  of 
them  autograph  letters  of  thanks  and  commendations, 
as  well  as  gold  medals.  If  anything  were  needed  to 
sicken  me  of  monarchies,  it  is  this   silly  affectation  in 


90  AN  UNDELIVERED  ADDBESS. 

monarchs  to  pretend  to  judge,  as  well  as  to  patronize, 
medical  systems.  "  Ne  sutor  ultra  crepidam  !"  Happily 
for  this  country,  few  people  care  much  for  the  "ratio 
regum!"  Koyal  wisdom  and  judgment  are  at  a  very 
heavy  discount ! 

Of  the  Eclectics,  little  is  known,  except  that  they  select 
such  principles  and  practices  as  may  suit  their  purpose, 
from  any  and  every  system  of  medicine.  They  proceed 
upon  the  supposition  that  there  is  no  true  system,  and  that 
they  are  more  capable  of  judging  what  is  true  or  errone- 
ous, good  or  evil,  than  the  founders  of  our  time-honored 
and  authority-approved  system  of  orthodox  medicine. 
This  is  an  individual  assumption  of  wisdom,  the  posses- 
sion of  which  can  be  possible  only  to  corporate  bodies. 
The  value — nay,  the  very  essence  of  the  value  of  corpo- 
rate bodies  arises  from  their  individual  incapacity.  There 
is  not  one  of  us  that  does  not  feel  his  personal  incompe- 
tence, single  and  alone — yet  there  is  not  one  of  us  that 
doubts  our  corporate  and  Academic  capacity  and  compe- 
tence. 

The  Hydropathists  are  a  set  of  pretended  physicians, 
who  were  spawned  by  that  amphibious  reptile,  Priessnitz, 
one  of  the  most  illiterate  of  the  Silesian  peasantry.  The 
science  of  this  school  consists  in  the  abjuration  of  all 
orthodox  medical  knowledge  whatever.  No  one  is  fit  to 
become  a  practitioner  of  it,  if  he  be  acquainted  with 
anatomy,  physiology,  chemistry,  and  pharmacy.  So  far 
from  it  being  a  help,  to  know  the  structure,  composition, 
and  laws  of  the  body,  it  is  a  positive  hindrance.  The 
practice  consists  in  administering  and  applying  water  to 
the  body,  inwardly  and  outwardly,  in  every  conceivable 
unnatural  and  injurious  manner.  The  rascally  impostors 
take  the  patients  into  their  houses,  where  they  are  fed  on 
the  worst  of  food,  subjected  to  the  most  contemptuous 


AN  UNORTHODOX  ADDRESS.  91 

and  degrading  treatment,  and  charged  most  enormous 
sums  for  being  pumped  and  spouted  on,  a  la  Graeferiberg. 

It  is  awful  to  think  of  the  infamous  prostitution  of  our 
Croton  water,  to  the  vile  purposes  of  these  miserable 
dabblers  in  human  health  and  happiness.  I  am  happy  to 
inform  you,  however,  that  whatever  mischief  may  be  per- 
petrated by  them  on  the  community,  they  have  done  us, 
the  members  of  the  Academy,  very  little  harm,  if  any — 
their  patients  being  generally  of  that  number  upon  whom 
we  had  exhausted  our  science,  and  found  quite  incurable. 
If  such  choose  to  be  hydropathed  to  death,  instead  of  dy- 
ing professionally  or  naturally,  let  them  do  so — who  can 
help  it  ? 

The  Homeopathists  are  a  more  formidable  brood.  I 
am  grieved  to  be  obliged  to  admit,  that  in  this  city  and 
neighborhood,  there  are  upward  of  fifty  of  them,  who  are 
not  only  sustaining  themselves  and  their  system — "  Save 
the  mark ! "  but  are  actually  perverting  young  men  who 
attend  our  colleges,  for  the  purpose  of  enabling  them  to 
practice  the  profession  of  medicine,  by  instilling  into 
them  the  trivialities,  the  nonentities,  the  absurdities  and 
impossibilities,  the  inanities  and  insanities  of  the  Hahne- 
mannic  imposture.     "  0  tempora  !     0  mores  !" 

We  feel  toward  many  of  these  as  the  hen  feels  toward 
some  of  her  brood,  when  she  sees  them  assume  the  cocka- 
trice form,  and  devour  their  fellow  nestlings.  Perhaps, 
of  all  offensive  characters,  those  of  traitor  and  apostate 
are  the  most  exasperating,  while  that  of  seducer  is  the 
most  detested  and  abhorred.  Only  think  of  the  pangs  of 
mortification  which  some  of  our  excellent  professors  ex- 
perience, when  their  paternal — I  might  rather  say  mater- 
nal— feelings  are  lacerated  by  the  discovery  that  they  have 
been  nourishing  a  young  homeopathic  viper  in  their 
bosoms,  instead  of  an  orthodox  spaniel — who,  on  the  first 


92  AN  UNDELIVERED  ADDRESS. 

occasion  that  offers,  will  not  hesitate  to  suck  its  parent's 
blood,  or  strangle  him  in  the  struggle  for  existence. 
Surely  he  might  with  just  propriety  employ  that  express- 
ive line  of  Euripides, 

"  I'm  full  of  miseries— there's  no  room  for  more." 

Indeed,  their  conduct  can  only  be  compared  with  that  of 
the  Ishmaelite  who  disgraces  his  profession  by  the  publi- 
cation of  the  Scalpel. 

I  will  first  describe  the  homeopathic  system  of  medical 
treatment.  Its  basis  is  this  principle,  if  it  ought  to  be  so 
called,  that  the  same  thing  which  will  cause  a  disease  will 
cure  it.  Thus,  bleeding  from  the  nose,  caused  by  project- 
ing that  organ  against  a  lamp  post,  would  be  checked  by 
a  succession  of  similiar  projections !  Delirium  tremens 
from  drinking  brandy,  would  be  cured  by  drinking  more 
brandy !  Cholera,  produced  by  contact  with  an  infected 
person,  or  exposure  to  mephitic  gases,  would  of  course  be 
cured  by  a  continued  exposure  to  such  causes !  And 
indeed,  death  itself,  from  any  cause — from  that  of  the 
taking  of  arsenic  or  Prussic  acid,  to  the  cutting  of  your 
throat  or  blowing  your  brains  out,  may  be  averted,  by 
simply  repeating  the  injury !  They  do  not  teach  in  this 
manner,  but  they  ought  to,  and  should — had  I  the  power 
to  make  them. 

Their  theory  is,  that  not  the  same,  but  a  similiar  affec- 
tion being  produced,  cures  the  disease — and  they  give  as 
examples  of  their  principle,  the  well-known  cases  of  mer- 
cury relieving  diseases  of  the  glands,  especially  of  the 
throat — opium  relieving  the  terrors  of  a  brandy  delirium  " 
— lead  relieving  colic — and  copper  assuaging  dysentery. 
If  they  mean  to  claim  the  manifestation  of  these  practical 
facts,  we  deny  their  claim,  and  put  in  our  plea  of  prece- 
dence.   These  facts  occurred  in  our  practice  and  they  hap- 


AN  UNORTHODOX  ADDRESS.  93 

pened  to  observe  them — picked  them  up,  and  stole  them, 
in  order  to  make  up  their  system !  Permit  me  to  give 
you  an  illustration  of  their  honesty  in  this  matter.  You 
invite  your  friend  to  your  house,  and  show  him  your  libra- 
ry, containing  books,  of  the  contents  of  which,  or  even 
their  language,  you  are  entirely  ignorant ;  but  your  friend 
easily  reads.  He  finds  a  valuable  secret,  and  by  means 
of  it  realizes  income  and  fortune.  Did  not  he,  by  means 
of  his  knowledge,  steal  from  you,  in  consequence  of  your 
ignorance  ? 

It  is  well  known  that  in  our  zeal  to  find  something 
which  would  relieve  or  cure  the  various  diseases  which 
the  human  body  is  subject  to,  we  gave  and  used,  without 
knowing  why  or  wherefore,  anything  and  everything  in 
our  way.  This  furnished  a  large  field  of  observation,  and 
the  homeopathists  stole  from  us  the  truth,  that  particular 
substances  act  upon  particular  parts  in  a  particular  man- 
ner, and  cure  particular  diseases.  Gralileo,  Kepler  and 
Newton  observed  the  laws  of  the  spheres,  and  gave  us  our 
system  of  astronomy ;  but  pray,  who  furnished  them 
with  the  worlds  to  observe  ?  By  how  much  superior  the 
star  maker  is  to  the  star  gazer,  by  so  much  orthodoxy  is 
superior  to  the  homeopath ! 

Thus  much  for  their  honesty  as  professors  of  a  science. 
Now  for  their  honesty  as  practitioners  of  it.  If  by  pro- 
ducing a  certain  affection  of  the  body,  or  a  part  of  it,  we 
can  remove  disease,  the  sooner  we  produce  that  affection, 
the  sooner  will  the  benefit  be  produced.  Now  surely  quan- 
tity and  power  hold  some  relation  to  each  other.  They  do 
in  the  mechanical  and  chemical  departments  of  nature  : 
why  should  they  not  in  the  therapeutical  department? 
No  doubt  you  have  all  heard  of  the  infinitesimal  doses  of 
medicine  which  these  practitioners  give!  Is  not  the 
object  of  them  apparent  ?    Their  patients  are  hardly  ever 


94  AN  UNDELIVERED  ADDRESS. 

out  of  their  fingers.  It  is  quite  common  to  know  of  cases 
of  five,  seven,  and  even  ten  years'  attendance.  Much  as 
we  regret  the  loss  of  good  paying  patients — we  are  more 
sorry  for  the  unhappy  condition  in  which  they  are  placed 
under  the  care  of  these  men — I  should  say  reptiles.  I 
apologize  for  letting  my  natural  politeness  get  the  better 
of  my  temper. 

Perhaps  no  part  of  the  homeopathic  system  is  so  objec- 
tionable as  that  of  degrading  the  administration  of  medi- 
cine to  a  mere  sweetmeat  business.  Every  medicine  is  admi- 
nistered in  sugar,  and  much  of  it  is  kept  prepared  in  form 
of  globules  or  comfits — so  that  it  is  common  for  the  chil- 
dren of  homeopathic  patients  to  ask  for  medicine  as  a 
treat,  and  not  one  of  them  is  ever  conscious  of  taking 
anything  unpleasant — much  less  nauseous.  I  am  not 
aware  that  they  ever  give  emetics  or  cathartics — but  I 
am  of  opinion  that  they  do  not.  Moreover  their  patients 
are  scarcely  ever  conscious  of  any  painful,  nauseous  or 
uncomfortable  sensations  from  the  medicines  which  they 
take  ;  which  is  proof  positive  that  what  they  take  is  of 
no  use.  Their  pretended  cures,  I  most  positively  be- 
lieve, are  effected  by  Nature — while  their  medicines,  I 
hesitate  not  to  affirm,  are  mere  placebos — that  is,  pleasant 
trifles.  Indeed,  the  sight  of  one  of  their  medicine  cases 
is  enough  to  convince  you  that  they  are  a  petty,  paltry 
set  of  peddling  pretenders.  "  Homunculi,  non  homines.' 
manikins,  not  men. 

I  suppose  you  are  aware  that  they  abjure  bleeding, 
cupping,  leeching,  scarifying,  setoning,  issuing,  caus-  ♦ 
ticing,  blistering  and  every  other  kind  of  mechanical  or 
chemical  lesion  of  the  body ;  and  you  may  know  by 
this,  if  by  nothing  else,  the  utter  uselessness  of  their 
system.  Indeed  it  has  nothing  to  recommend  it ;  it  is 
the  imbecile  offspring  of  the  thirtieth  dilution  of  a  fanatic. 


AN  UNORTHODOX  ADDRESS.  95 

The  homeopathists,  as  a  body,  are  beneath  our  notice, 
and  below  contempt.  As  a  system  we  may  say  of  it, 
"  nihil  sed  nominis  umbra."  It  is  nothing  but  the  shadow 
of  a  name.  Euclid's  definition  of  a  point  is  the  best  de- 
scription of  it :  "  Without  length,  breadth  or  thickness." 
A  mere  nonenity. 

Now  let  me  give  you  a  brief  sketch  of  our  system" 
of  medicine.  We  are  men  of  substance ;  what  we  give 
hath  length,  breadth  and  thickness.  Our  Materia  Medica 
cannot  be  carried  in  our  pockets.  We  give  teacupsfuls 
of  salts  and  senna — sometimes  even  to  children — none 
of  your  contemptible  fantastical  comfits  and  globules! 
tablespoonfuls  of  castor  oil — teaspoonfuls  of  jalap  and 
calomel — tartar  emetic  and  ipecacuanha  in  becoming 
quantities  to  vomit  them — scammony,  colocynth,  aloes, 
gamboge,  etc.,  in  respectable  doses  to  purge  them.  The 
effects  of  these  things  are  felt  and  lasting.  I  assure 
you  I  have  often  known  patients  be  a  week  or  more  ere 
they  recovered  from  one  of  such  doses.  Compare  that  with 
your  homeopathists'  thirtieth  trituration — and  then  answer 
the  question — "  Who  are  most  entitled  to  the  appellation 
of  practitioners  of  medicine?"  I  verily  believe  that  I 
give  more  medicine  in  one  week,  than  some  of  them  give 
in  a  whole  year !  Why,  if  we  were  all  homeopathists,  the 
drug  trade  would  be  ruined,  and  the  tariff  seriously  in- 
jured. I  would  enlist  your  political  and  patriotic  feelings 
against  such  an  atomic  cachectic  monstrosity. 

Then  for  the  mode  of  preparing  and  exhibiting  their 
medicines.  They  have  their  everlasting  powders  and 
perpetual  drops.  "  Toujours  la  meme  chose."  See  our 
variety !  We  have  our  powders,  pills,  boluses,  supposi- 
tories, draughts,  mixtures,  lotions,  liniments,  ointments, 
plasters,  injections,  collyriums,  troches,  embrocations, 
fomentations,  cataplasms,  sinapisms,  vesications,  pustu- 
5 


96  AN  UNDELIVERED   ADDRESS. 

lations  and  cauterizations  I  "  Non  verba  sola,  sed  substan- 
tia rerum."  Eeal  things,  not  merely  names.  These  are 
our  medicamenta,  our  Materia  Medica. 

Let  me  now  call  your  attention  to  what  we  do,  as  well  as 
what  we  give.  "We  believe  in  bleeding,  and  practice  it  with 
a  generous  freedom.  It  is  one  of  the  essential  features  of 
our  system.  How  could  inflammations  and  inflammatory 
fevers  be  subdued  without  it  ?  In  many  instances  of  in- 
flammation of  the  lungs,  liver,  brain,  and  bowels,  we  are 
often  obliged  to  bleed  persons  almost  to  death,  in  order  to 
avert  the  terrible  consequences  of  the  rapid  and  fearful 
disease !  "What  are  we  to  think  of  the  philosophy  of  a 
system  of  therapeutics  which  abjures  bleeding  ?  Many 
of  our  patients  have  a  periodical  instinctive  sense  of  the 
necessity  of  the  lancet — and  if  we  were  to  decline  to  use 
it  for  them,  they  would  certainly  apply  to  less  skillful  and 
conscientious  persons.  Moreover,  we  should  lose  many 
fees,  and  those  of  the  best  kind — ready  money.  Many  of 
us  are  entirely  supplied  with  pocket  money  from  this 
source,  and  from  that  of  snipping  tongue-tied  children. 
It  is  well  for  us,  that  the  homeopathists  do  not  profess  to 
know  much  about  the  anatomy  of  the  body,  healthy  or 
morbid,  or  they  would  convince  the  people  that  nine 
tongue-tied  cases  in  ten  do  not  need  snipping. 

Again,  look  at  our  superior  advantages  in  the  relief 
which  we  are  able  to  offer  by  local  blood-letting — by  cup- 
ping, scarifying,  and  leeching.  Some  of  our  patients, 
even  delicate  women,  have  been  cupped  almost  from  head 
to  foot.  In  many  cases  of  apoplexy,  paralysis,  epilepsy^ 
and  spinal  disease,  the  established  mode  of  treatment  is 
topical  blood-letting.  How,  I  ask,  could  wo  proceed, 
without  these  modes  of  effecting  our  purpose  ?  Where 
the  homeopathists  would  give  a  millionth  of  a  grain  of 
calcareum,  aconite,  or  veratrinc,  we  extract  six  ounces  of 


AN  UNORTHODOX  ADDRESS.  97 

blood  I  Our  system  is  physical,  sensible,  impressive,  inde- 
lible! "We  leave  the  marks  of  science  behind  us,  at 
every  step!  Their  system  is  fantastical,  metaphysical, 
mystical.  They  leave  neither  trail  nor  trace  of  their  op- 
erations. Their  patients  are  not  conscious  of  any,  inward- 
ly or  outwardly.  The  candy  and  comfit  dealers  might 
as  well  be  accounted  physicians,  as  the  homeopathists  ! 
They  are  a  sort  of  medical  Brahmins  or  Fakirs. 

I  have  scarcely  time  and  opportunity  to  do  justice  to 
that  part  of  our  system,  consisting  of  setons,  issues,  blis- 
terings,  sinapisms  and  pustulations.  Of  these  things,  so 
exceedingly  effective  in  their  mode  of  operation,  and  so 
admirably  adaptive  in  their  administration — the  homeo- 
pathists know  nothing.  "While  we  employ  some  hundreds 
of  thousands  of  blisters  annually,  they  do  not  use  a 
single  one.  I  am  sure  that  I  need  not  enlarge  upon  this 
subject,  to  so  enlightened,  so  experienced,  and  I  dare  say 
I  may  add,  so  well  blistered  and  pustuled  an  audience,  as 
the  present.  How  the  homeopathists  sleep  in  their  beds, 
when  they  have  cases  of  inflammation  under  their  care, 
and  they  neither  bleed,  cup,  nor  blister,  I  know  not ; 
except  their  consciences  have  been  as  much  diluted  by 
fanaticism,  as  their  intellects  have  been  triturated  with 
mysticism. 

For  my  part,  never  until  I  have  abstracted  the  last 
ounce  of  blood  by  some  one  of  our  modes  of  depleting, 
and  obtained  the  last  drachm  of  serum  by  some  form  of 
vesication*  do  I  feel  at  ease,  in  cases  of  inflammation. 
Oh,  what  a  comfort  to  my  soul  it  is,  when  I  pay  my  last 
visit  to  my  dying  patients,  that  no  congested  blood  in 
their  veins  can  cry  to  Heaven  against  me  for  vengeance ! 

I  now  feel  that  the  time  is  come  to  address  a  few 
words  of  exhortation  to  the  clergy.  Their  sanction  and 
countenance  is  of  great  importance,  for  good  or  for  eviL 


98  AN   UNDELIVERED  ADDRESS. 

Can  they,  after  hearing  this  calm,  dispassionate,  unpre- 
judiced, philosophic,  and  theologic  comparison  of  the  two 
systems  of  medical  practice,  consistently  and  conscien- 
tiously countenance  the  attenuated,  mystical,  supersti- 
tious, Brahminical,  heretical,  and  antiscriptural  system 
of  Hahnemann — so  notorious  a  schismatic?  They  will 
perceive,  that  the  success  of  medicine,  as  well  as  the- 
ology, requires  the  shedding  of  blood,  and  purging. 
Never,  I  hope,  will  they  favor  and  foster  a  system  of 
medicine  which  threatens  to  pave  the  way  for  the  return 
of  Arianism  and  Pelagianism,  to  sweep  from  the  civilized 
and  Christianized  world  the  orthodox  physician,  as  well 
as  the  successors  of  the  Apostles,  the  Orthodox  clergy — 
and  to  undermine  the  very  belief  and  understanding  of 
the  Scriptures !  "  Diis  sacer  est  medicus,  divumque  sacer- 
dos."  Sacred  to  the  gods,  are  both  the  orthodox  physi- 
cian and  clergy. 

I  do  not  feel  called  upon  to  say  anything  respecting 
the  subject  of  chrono-thermalism,  except  this — that  at 
present  only  one  case  of  infection  has  appeared  in  this 
city — and  it  is  currently  reported  that  it  does  not  pay. 
Certain  it  is,  that  whereas  it  formerly  went  about  in  a 
carriage,  it  now  goes  afoot,  and  they  say  it  is  paralytic. 
It  also  abjures  bleeding,  but  believes  in  poison,  and 
large  doses. 

"We  merely  say  to  it,  "Noli  me  tangere!"  If  it  do, 
most  assuredly  it  will  have  cause  to  repent,  whether  it 
do  or  not.  -, 

Concerning  the  throat  disease  treatment,  there  is  much 
to  say,  but  our  limits  do  not  admit  of  more  than  a  brief 
notice  of  it.  One  of  our  present  number  ventured,  with- 
out the  sanction  of  the  leading  members  of  our  profession, 
to  propose  and  practice  a  new  mode  of  healing  diseases 
of  the  throat,  by  topical  applications  in   the  windpipe. 


AN  UNORTHODOX  ADDRESS.  09 

As  the  entrance  of  any  substance  into  this  part  was 
known  to  be  accompanied  with  fearful  strangling,  and 
convulsive  cough,  they  considered  the  plan  of  treatment 
was  impossible,  and  therefore  denounced  the  proposal  of 
it  as  an  ignorant  and  impudent  imposture,  and  the  pro- 
pounder  as  a  quack. 

.  We  have,  however,  appointed  a  committee  to  select  a 
few  proper  subjects  from  the  poor  at  our  new  school  for 
experimental  surgery,  at  Bellevue,  and  to  try  the  pro- 
cess of  injecting  the  abscesses  of  such  of  them  as  are  past 
all  hope  of  life,  and  to  report  to  our  Academy  the  result. 
"We  anticipate  no  benefit,  but  have  thought  it  due  to 
science  and  humanity  to  test  the  absurdity  in  order  to 
satisfy  the  public  of  our  zeal.  The  subjects  selected  being 
unknown  in  society,  it  cannot  affect  us  injuriously  what- 
ever the  result  may  prove,  and  we  shall,  in  the  event  of 
fatal  issue,  from  our  official  position,  be  able  to  avoid  the 
disgraceful  scandal  of  a  coroner's  inquest.* 

You  will  all  perceive  the  danger  of  admitting  discov- 
eries. If  we  allow  the  existence  of  a  new  truth,  we 
become  liable  to  the.  charge  of  imperfections,  ignorance, 
or  error — which  is  fatal  to  our  pretensions  to  orthodoxy 
— and  that  once  doubted,  our  prestige  and  power  are 
gone.  A  committee  of  the  most  prudent  of  our  number 
will  be  appointed  to  deal  with  the  phenomenon  of  a  dis- 
covery. It  is  so  rare  a  thing  with  ourselves,  that  we 
shall  seldom,  if  ever,  cause  any  trouble. 

I  feel  confident  that  the  clergy  will  approve  of  our 
course  in  this  matter,  for  we  have  acted  upon  their  prin- 
ciple, that  of  resisting  every  innovation,  until  it  could  no 
longer  be  resisted — and  then  incorporating  it  in  the  body 

*  It  was  done,  and  resulted  in  the  death  of  two  of  the  subjects,  with  fearful 
symptoms.  See  Scalpel,  No.  28.  We  called  on  the  district  attorney  publicly,  to 
indict  the  parties  concerned,  but  it  was  not  done. 


100  AN  UNDELIVEEED  ADDEESS. 

of  the  text.  Ever  since  the  clergy  assumed  the  control, 
nay,  the  very  existence  of  the  church,  they  have  unde- 
viatingly  resisted  the  introduction  of  any  new  truth, 
from  whatever  quarter,  whether  of  learning  or  science — 
and  reserved  to  themselves  the  right  to  introduce  what- 
ever may  be  necessary  to  the  well- working  of  the  sys- 
tem. It  is  upon  this  principle  that  all  Ecclesiastical 
bodies  have  been  founded — from  the  Roman  Catholic 
Church  down  through  the  Greek  and  Armenian  Churches, 
the  Protestant  Episcopal  Churches  of  every  country,  the 
various  forms  of  Presbyterian  Churches,  and  the  Metho- 
dist Episcopal  Church  of  this  country,  as  well  as  its 
Sister  Church  in  the  British  Dominions,  the  large  and 
now  respectable  Wesleyan  Body,  or  rather  Conference. 

Every  one  is  acquainted  with  the  trouble  which  Galileo 
gave  the  church,  by  his  introduction  of  unauthorized  and 
unsanctioned  discoveries — and  the  manifest  necessity 
which  required  their  suppression.  In  our  own  day,  the 
geologists  have  given  the  church  the  same  sort  of  trouble. 
A  few  of  the  leading  men  of  each  important  denomina- 
tion, have  admitted  and  espoused  the  geological  innova- 
tions— but  the  great  proportion  of  the  clergy,  who  have 
no  time  for  the  investigation,  have  very  wisely  refused  to 
entertain  the  question  at  all,  and  steadily  voted  it  down. 
It  was  very  manifest  to  them,  that  if  they  admitted  the 
discoveries  of  geology,  they  would  not  only  affix  their 
sign  and  seal  to  the  document  of  their  ignorance  and 
error,  but  impose  upon  themselves  the  labor  of  learning 
that  of  which  they  felt  themselves  very  incapable,  and 
more  unwilling  to  attempt.  Their  maxim  has  always 
been,  "  obsta  principiis  !" 

If  anything  could  shake  our  faith  in  republicanism,  it 
is  the  traitorous  conduct  of  our  Legislature  toward 
orthodox  medicine.     They  have  opened  the  door  of  lib- 


AN  UNOETHODOX  ADDRESS.  101 

erty  to  quacks  and  pretenders,  and  every  one  now  may 
poison  that  pleases.  Although  we  are  forbidden  to  curse 
our  enemies,  yet  we  are  not  only  at  liberty  but  are  com- 
manded to  pray  for  them.  In  the  language  of  prayer, 
we  say — "May  everlasting  fire  and  brimstone  rest  upon 
the  bodies  and  souls,  the  senses  and  limbs,  of  those,  and 
their  children  also,  to  all  generations,  who  despoiled  us 
of  our  vested  rights,  and  profitable  monopoly.  Let  them 
perish  forever !  And  let  all  the  people — at  least  the 
orthodox  people — say  Amen,  Amen  I" 


AN  ARTIST'S  REVERIE. 


*'  Spirits  are  not  finely  touched,  but  to  fine  lssrea." 

The  artist  rests  in  his  work-chamber — a  spacious 
room,  with  walls  in  middle  tint  and  light  direct  from 
heaven.  Statues  stand  about — that  were  shaped  two 
thousand  years  ago  by  such  as  Phidias,  and  three  hun- 
dred years  ago  by  such  as  Angelo.  Fragments  are 
strewn  around  ; — here  is  Scott's  death-face — there,  a  bas 
relief  from  the  frieze  of  the  Parthenon.  In  a  folio,  are 
skillfully  cut  engravings  by  Doo  and  Finden  after  Raphael 
and  Titian,  and  Edwin  Landseer  after  his  brother.  On 
a  table  he  softly  penciled  lithographs  from  France,  and 
marvelously  done  daguerreotypes  ;  together  with  spir- 
ited drawings  in  pencil  and  crayon — a  cast,  in  porcelain, 
of  the  Portland  vase — illuminated  books  in  vellum — casts 
from  antique  gems — bits  of  precious  woods  and  marbles 
— tresses  of  hair,  and  an  ebony-and-ivory  cross  and 
Jesus. 

Then  there  are  several  easels,  bearing  works  unfin- 
ished ;  such  as  a  statuette — a  colossal  bust  of  Webster, 
remarkable  for  its  massiveness,  ponderous  forehead,  bull- 
like throat,  down-set  mouth,  sunken,  fire-gleaming  eyes, 
set  in  areola,  and  carelessly  thrown  hair — a  half  length  of 


an  artist's  reverie.  103 

a  cherub  child,  with  its  sinless,  sunny  countenance,  un- 
broken, dimpled,  glee-like  laugh,  (the  eyes  laughing  as  well 
as  the  cherry-like  mouth,)  large  head,  abundance  of  curly, 
dangling,  wind-tossed  locks,  tiny  neck,  and  funny  little 
breasts.  These  works  are  covered  for  the  time  with 
damp  cloths  ;  but  there  remains  one  that  is  yet  uncov- 
ered. It  is  the  bust,  of  life  size,  of  a  very  lovely  woman, 
of  slender  though  full  form,  stag-like. 

She  has  an  oval  outline  of  face,  eyes  like  the  gazelle's, 
nose  of  the  costliest  Greek  mould,  delicate  and  sensitive 
ears  and  nostrils,  and  a  mouth  of  noble  curvature,  yet 
amorous  expression.  The  flower  of  her  form  has  just 
opened  its  capital  leaf ;  her  forehead  looks  serene,  and 
her  whole  countenance  and  bearing  teem  with  both  grace 
and  guilelessness.  Her  hair  is  luxuriant  and  silky,  and 
gathered  up  so  as  not  to  hide  the  lovely  neck  and  low- 
falling  shoulders.  Her  bosom  is  yet  undraped.  And  at 
this  work  the  artist,  as  he  reclines  in  his  chair,  gazes 
spell-bound,  as  artists  often  will  at  their  last-touched 
work,  when  the  brain  and  hand  are  tired  and  droop. 

To  the  modeler,  the  sitter  seems  now  present,  now 
dimly  away.  The  effect  of  the  work  on  the  artist's  frame 
flits  up  and  off  again.  Professional  jealousy  and  gener- 
osity wrestle.  The  labor  of  concluding  the  work  is 
rehearsed — and  then  all  care  dies  for  the  day  and  pleas- 
ure reigns.     *     *     *     * 

The  pipe  drops  unwittingly  to  the  smoker,  who  reposes 
with  a  corpse-like  stillness  ;  not  in  simple  sleep,  but  bodily 
trance  and  profound  mental  reverie.  For  a  time  he  is 
loose  from  all  earthly  chains,  and  roams  through  ages 
after  ages,  o'er  a  theatre,  with  hell  for  its  footstool  and 
heaven  for  its  crown,  and  vice  versa.  Where  tragedy  and 
farce,  grief  and  joy,  love  and  hate,  lock  together,  and  the 
lip  of  falsehood  enriches  the  lip  of  truth ;  the  tear  at- 
5* 


104  an  aettst's  eeveeie. 

tends  to  misery,  and  the  chamber  of  death   is  but  the 
portal  to  fresh  life ! 

The  rain-storm  refreshes  the  faded  grass,  and  the 
globe's  revolutions  balance  its  clouds,  and  Night  and 
Morning  bear  the  gentle  twilight. 

Sin  calls  for  the  Eedeemer  ;  a  dark  and  slippery  way 
raises  the  value  of  a  covert  under  the  grandest j  wing ; 
what  but  the  darkest  ground  of  night  can  wear  the 
richest  set  of  stars  ? 

Envy  not  the  artist  his  brilliant  pleasures,  for  he  has 
to  return  to  opposite  things,  that  seem,  by  contrast,  as 
the  rack,  and  drop,  and  stifling  inquisition  cell !  He  has 
no  even  tenor  to  his  way.  His  mind  sweeps  through 
hell  as  well  as  heaven.  He  has  to  study  the  Magdalen 
and  Christ,  imps  and  angels,  plump  youth  and  pleated 
age,  mountain  pinnacles  and  cavern  floors,  all  the  pas- 
sions, strange  comminglings  of  character  and  color, 
anatomy,  history,  mythology,  costume — he  has  to  search 
deformity  to  find  beauty,  turn  over  the  hill  to  find  the 
jewel ! 

Some  live  long  like  Domenechino,  but  almost  all  re- 
ceive an  early  death  like  Raphael.  Life  is  hurried 
through  to  get  quickly  at  its  finest  essence.  Remember 
Bulwer's  "  Warner,"  his  young  corpse  sitting  in  a  chair 
in  a  gallery  of  art  at  Rome  ;  the  fair  hair,  the  while,  play- 
ing about  the  insensate  face  and  shoulders,  by  the  sport- 
ing of  the  wind,  like  little  ones,  who  whisper  to,  and  kiss, 
and  otherwise  caress,  but  mother's  clay.  There  are  hun- 
dreds of  such  Warners  ;  hundreds  who  enthusiastically 
love  great  art — so  love  it  as  to  forget  to  sleep  well,  eat 
well,  and  "follow  the  rule  of  heat  and  cold.  So,  covet  not 
this  one's  lot,  as  he  enjoys  his  momentary,  though  golden 
Vision.  God  is  with  him  now,  but  even  now  the  tempter 
is  returning.     The  diamond  sheds  about  itself  a  precious 


an  aktist's  revekie.  105 

and  quite  splendid  glory,  uniquely  splendid,  but  its  pos- 
session is  often  accompanied  by  an  unhappy  train.  Its 
ownership  and  guardianship  are  big  with  care,  as  well  as 
pride  and  beauty  ;  they  continually  do  cry  for  things  to 
match.  Paste  is  more  plentiful  and  modest,  and  infi- 
nitely more  unfluctuating.  It  remains  safe  when  the 
diamond  is  insidiously  stolen  off.  The  one  has  a  serene 
and  unchanging  climate  ;  the  other  a  day  in  the  garden 
of  Eden,  a  month  in  the  mines  of  Siberia. 

The  vision  that  floats  first  is  that  of  the  Building  of 
the  Eakth,  and  our  reverist,  in  lounge  so  sloven,  closed 
eye,  prostrate  body,  and  with  brain  on  fire,  follows,  by  the 
lamp  of  his  soul,  and  with  deep  wonder  and  affection, 
the  hand  of  the  divine  Guide. 

A  black,  opaque,  dancing  ball  appears.  It  expands 
and  lightens  up  ;  larger  and  larger  it  grows  ;  becomes 
tremulous  and  full  of  creeping  mites,  and  now  assumes 
ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand  shapes,  and  all  the 
striped  colors  of  the  rainbow. 

The  earth's  life  has  begun---centuries  pass  along  ;  and 
millions  of  years  ;  the  chaotic  needle's  point  springs  up 
into  a  mass  gigantic  of  matter,  animate  and  inanimate. 
The  living  things  creep,  or  wind  along  on  their  bellies. 
None  of  them  stand  erect !  A  dusky  light  broods  over  all ; 
a  cold,  heavy  twilight.  All  colors  look  shadowy,  sickly, 
unbrilliant,  and  of  insipid  tinge  .  Generations  after  gen- 
ations  of  the  worm  and  lizard,  are,  at  long  intervals,  the 
mere  focus  of  the  Almighty's  burning  glass,  and  are  em- 
bedded into  vast  masses  of  granite  and  marble,  and  im- 
mense caverns  of  rock,  sealed  for  the  time  with  lava. 
Vines,  of  humble  shape,  run  wild  and  get  entangled  and 
kept  down,  like  pinned  net-work,  for  final  petrifaction  by 
the  Supreme  Chemist ! 

Billions  of  years  flit  by,  and  the  needle's  point  has 


106  AN   ARTIST'S  ItEVEEIE. 

expanded  to  a  diameter  of  nearly  eight  thousand  miles. 
The  mighty  ball  grows  more  and  more  lit  up,  and  richer 
and  richer  in  colors,  and  monsters  as  well  as  mites  peo- 
ple it.  Mammoths  tread  it  with  a  thundering  footfall 
sound ;  and  colossal  serpents  carry  lightning  on  their 
tongue-tips,  and  roll  over  the  globe's  form  like  ocean  bil- 
lows, and  their  breathings  whistle  like  rushing  winds, 
and  sing  as  the  iEolian  harp  !  Moisture  increases,  and 
beds  of  slime  appear,  embasking  the  great  crocodile  ;  and 
centuries  of  living  things  are  again  frozen  into  stone,  to 
consolidate  the  throne  of  coming  Man,  and  give  materials 
for  his  pleasure-look,  and  matters  of  utility.  Layer  on 
layer  of  the  dead  remains  of  by-gone  time  sleep  in  their 
graves — fragments  of  the  dead — clay  to  mould  the  living. 

The  giant  caverns,  so  still  throughout  the  march  of 
ages,  now  burst  off  their  lava  seals,  shake  the  whole 
globe,  stretch  their  walls  angrily  above  the  surface  for 
miles,  and  then  clap  on  their  caps  conical.  Hecla,  Etna, 
Vesuvius,  and  Cotopaxi!  dread  fellows  those,  to  belch 
forth  flames  of  fire,  spit  up  balls,  and  slobber  molten 
stone!  Grand  designers  those  for  ice  bridge,  leaping 
cataract,  and  dizzy  staircase !  Mighty  demons  those,  to 
fascinate,  and  smother,  and  embalm  whole  cities  at  a 
time,  and  build  to  them  amusing  monuments  of  sport  and 
horror !  Spirit  so  choice !  ye  buckle  Naples  city  to  the 
instep  ;  look  down  upon  the  clouds  and  wear  them  as  a 
belt,  and  claim  best  lip-touch  from  our  Lord  of  light! 
Starters  of  rockets !  Mortars  of  war !  Miserly  collectors 
of  the  ancient  statue,  vase  and  wedding-ring !  Why  sing 
ye  like  the  thunder-claps  and  mutter  like  the  field  of 
Austerlitz  ? 

Now,  bowels,  veins,  and  arteries  appear,  to  fill  them- 
selves with  mammoth,  ibex,  forest  leaf  and  tree,  to  yield 
to  after  times  beds  of  both  coal  and  marble.     Away,  in 


an  artist's  revebie.  107 

the  ocean's  lonemost  parts,  rise  countless  piles  of  coral 
and  stiff,  crimped,  spongy  looking  stone  foliage,  a  thou- 
sand times  larger  than  the  pyramids  of  Egypt !  Vast 
structures  of  the  worm,  rising  step  by  step  to  be  chief 
giant !  Generous  creatures !  to  strip  your  arms  of  your 
peculiar  ornament,  to  please  the  little  child,  both  civil 
and  barbaric!  Oracular  voices!  that  join  all  cheerily 
with  myriad  others  to  declare  that,  "united  we  stand, 
divided  we  fall,"  and  render  it  quite  wonderless  that  the 
poor  worm  when  winged  becomes  a  symbol  of  the  soul ! 

Now,  a  profusion  of  material  exists,  for  man  to  show 
his  cunning  workmanship,  and  well  supply  his  wants 
legitimate.  Away  with  his  winged  servitors,  to  bring 
in  the  Earth's  lamps — the  golden  sun,  the  silver  moon, 
and  the  ever-dancing  stars !  Now  start  the  messenger 
comets  ;  and  hark  to  that  strain  of  angel-sung  music, 
and  now  the  voice-play  of  heaven's  grand  artillery,  while 
the  unconscious  shape  of  Adam  is  lifted  from  its  bed  of 
descending  clouds,  by  a  group  of  angels,  and  placed  in 
the  garden  of  Eden,  to  be  breathed  upon  by  the  Lokd 
God! 

the  garden. 

A  divine  scene.  Nature  unbroken  by  Art.  A  climate 
most  delicious  ;  and  exquisitely  beautiful  and  grand 
shapes,  infinitely  varied.  The  waters  seem  as  magic  mir- 
rors, clasping  to  their  bosom  the  sublimest  revelations  of 
the  sky — the  storm — the  calm — the  cloud-done  battle 
pieces — clusters  on  clusters  of  glittering  stars  and 
planets,  and  the  air-sailing-and-diving  bird. 

The  lily  and  the  stag  are  looking  at  themselves — and 
the  simple  daisy,  too.  There  are  no  dim  eyes  abroad — 
no  checked  heart  currents — no  halt  movements — not  a 
stammering  tongue.    Ecstasy  of  feeling  is  regnant — all 


108  an  aktist's  reverie. 

shapes  and  colors  harmonize,  and  every  blade  of  grass  is 
bespangled  with  dew.  All  nature  is  a  harp  in  tune,  and 
every  breath  gives  forth  the  note  exultant. 

The  melody  of  the  bird  and  bee,  and  the  soft  whisper- 
ings of  the  breeze-swayed  grass,  chime  in  with  the  voices 
of  the  streamlet,  +,he  tear-drops  of  the  rock  clefts,  and  the 
never-tiring  waterfalls  that  are  hissing  and  dashing,  curl- 
ing and  flashing,  tumbling  and  sparkling,  and  casting  up 
their  spray  as  incense  toward  the  Divine  halo. 

Luscious  fruits  abound,  and  so  do  wonderfully  inter- 
woven arbors.  The  ivy  embraces  and  adorns  the  oak, 
Handsomely  curve  the  valley  and  the  hill,  and  "  distance 
lends  enchantment  to  the  view !"  The  elephant  treads 
in  state — and  bounds  the  colossal-headed  Hon — and  darts 
the  basilisk  and  hare.  The  elegant  and  lithe  tiger  well 
displays  his  coat  of  ermine,  springs  o'er  the  long  lawns, 
and  leaps  tremendously  amid  the  congregations  of  the 
rocks  ;  and  the  peacock  proudly  flaunts  its  tail  of  satin, 
emerald,  and  gold.  Forests  stand  like  armies,  yet  min- 
gle in  sweet  converse  as  the  tenor  with  the  bass.  They 
catch  and  play  in  tune  with  the  nightingale  and  eagle, 
and  welcome  to  their  arms  the  serpent  and  the  dove. 
The  fish  sport  noiselessly  in  school,  or  leap  delightfully 
along  in  single  leap,  or  summerset  thrown  o'er  their 
looking-glass — or  further  still,  as  knights  in  tourney,  have 
sham  battles  done  in  gorgeous  scaly  armor  eclipsing  that 
of  supple  Saladin.  Flowers  throng  the  paths  and  water- 
sides, and  give  away  their  perfume.  How  fragrant  is 
the  air  and  big  with  innocent  intoxication!  All  things 
are  chanting  praises  to  heaven's  centre— but  such  as  we 
may  but  feebly  imagine  and  make  note  of  the  infinity, 
majesty  and  highly  divine  impress,  of  the  first  home  of 
our  own  and  Nero's  chief  forefather — whose  one  child 
was  an  angel  boy,  whose  other — a  mere  fratricide. 


an  aetist's  eeveeie.  109 

And  over  all  this  nobility  of  nature  looks  the  monarch 
Adam — his  figure  erect,  countenance  serene  and  of  soft 
smile,  and  whole  shape  and  action  significant  of  grace, 
intelligence,  agility  and  strength.  His  skin  is  glossy, 
limbs  round,  chest  spacious,  and  hair  of  fine  thread,  rich 
color  and  high  polish,  hanging  in  clusters  about  the  ivory 
face,  neck  and  shoulders. 

Rather  than  a  monarch,  he  seems  himself  a  god !  and 
at  his  Apollo-like  presence,  the  lambs  skipped  for  joy, 
and  the  grandest  hills  and  caverns  sharply  clapped  their 
hands. 

He  walks  proudly  over  his  domain — gazes  with  rap- 
ture at  mountain,  tree  and  bower — tastes  of  the  most 
delicious  fruits — closely  scans  the  dazzling  palace  dome 
— inhales  the  faultless  air,  and  yet  he  murmurs. 

With  perfect  self-possession  he  openly  complains  that 
every  creature  but  himself  hath  its  mate,  while  his  own 
life-harp  lacks  the  sympathetic  string,  as  all  pleasure  and 
glory  chiefly  consist  of  a  sweet  interchange  of  soul,  and 
life's  best  enjoyment  dies  out  at  its  first  breath  unless  it 
lock  with  a  responsive  heart-beat. 

The  ever-listening  God  said  "  Sleep !"  and  Adam  slept, 
to  awake  like  the  Sun  with  the  moon  by  its  side — the 
silver  with  the  gold.  By  him  lay  the  maiden  Eve,  at 
whom  he  gazed  with  perfect  joy.  And  the  noble  and 
beautiful  pair  arose  like  the  eyelids  of  morning,  and 
throughout  the  eventful  day  they  chatted,  and  ate,  and 
drank,  and  reclined  together  ;  and  the  pulses  of  their 
every  glance  and  wish  arose  and  fell  in  unison.  At 
length  they  heard  the  electrifying  voice  of  their  Creator, 
saying  in  sonorous  tones,  "One  fruit  in  this  garden  is 
mine,  exclusively  so  ;  eat  not  of  it  lest  the  spell  of  your 
present  perfect  happiness  be  broken,  and  you  wed  many 
a  misery  ;  but  when  you  closely  approach  this  fruit  you 
will  meet  with  a  last  warning." 


110  an  artist's  reverie. 

Then  o'er  the  spirit  of  our  lovers  sat  a  shadow.  They 
stood  at  first  abstractedly,  yet  soon,  with  ear  alert,  to 
listen  to  philosophy  and  prophecy  done  by  a  passing 
serpent. 

"I  see,"  (it  said,)  "the  mightiest  magnet  'gainst  the 
lightest  needle — the  finite  'gainst  the  infinite — who'll  be 
the  conquering  hero  ?  An  apple  changes  like  painter's 
pencil  from  grave  to  gay,  from  weal  to  woe,  from  bay  to 
cypress  and  a  crown  of  thorns !  A  ladder  pointed  to  the 
sky,  reels  off  its  scalers  into  ruin,  yet  the  fox  climbs  on 
toward  Zeuxis'  grapes,  the  bees  will  light  on  Plato's  lips, 
the  worm  becomes  an  angel  and  the  serpent  a  prime 
minister !  Again,  I  see  circuits  on  circuits  of  ages,  and 
Sisera  fighting  the  stars  in  their  courses,  and  a  courtesan 
of  Thebes,  building  a  pyramid  with  the  forbidden  fruit 
of  her  debaucheries,  and  now,  a  stolen  child  returns  to 
the  bosom  of  its  mother  at  the  hands  of  superior  wisdom." 
The  serpent's  subtle  tongue  now  stops,  as  the  sun  sets 
behind  the  faintly  blue  hills  and  lingers  on  the  loftiest 
mountain  peaks.  Fish  leave  their  watery  attic,  and  birds 
take  to  their  pedestals  and  fold  the  wing. 

Soon  the  royal  lovers  were  o'ertaken  by  the  twilight 
with  all  its  gentleness  and  witchery.  Then  they  rested 
on  a  velvety  knoll  under  a  great  and  vine-embowered 
tree.  Now  they  feel  creeping  over  them  a  delicious  lan- 
guor, and  lean  together  their  ivorial  shoulders  and  rose- 
entinted  cheeks.  Then  Adam  clasps  Eve's  beautiful 
form  and  ardently  kisses  and  kisses  her  scarlet  lips,  looks 
with  a  thrilling  delight  over  her  pearly  traoery  of  vein, 
passes  his  fingers  through  the  masses  of  her  cool  and 
silky  hair  locks,  clasps  her  wrists  and  ankles  and  admires 
their  delicacy  and  faultlessness  of  chiselry  ;  and  in  every 
thought,  glance  and  touch,  meets  with  the  sympathetic 
harp-string ;  but  lo !  a  serpent  near  them  hissed,  they 


an  aetist's  reverie.  Ill 

start  at  the  intrusive  sound,  the  unnatural  and  rejected 
warning!  while  the  serpent  lies  quite  motionless,  as 
around  its  open  and  illuminated  mouth  an  ambitious  and 
music-loving  bird  circles  and  circles,  and  then  darts 
swiftly  as  the  lightning  into  its  living  tomb ! 

The  singular  order  of  high  heaven  was  disobeyed,  but 
a  mother's  love  was  won.  The  globe  trembled,  but  was 
it  for  grief  or  joy  ?     Clouds  distill  and  drop  the  dew. 

The  trumpet  was  made  to  bray — and  the  hill  of  hymen 
is  a  gateway  to  the  mercy  seat  as  well  as  sepulchre.  The 
grandest  passions  and  emotions  need  a  world  and  not  a 
garden.  The  Supreme  power  can  comprehend  the  dust 
of  the  earth  in  a  measure,  weigh  the  mountains  in  scales, 
and  measure  the  waters  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand  ;  but 
Lucretia,  a  child  of  disobedience,  so  loved  virtue  that 
without  it  life  was  impossible.  Sin  and  penitence  gave 
the  Magdalen  to  Christ,  and  fashion  spoils  the  waist  to 
feed  the  grave-yard,  and  chisel  youthful  portraits  on  the 
costly  tombs  of  church  and  cloister.  The  world  peoples, 
and  Galileos  arise.  The  children  of  Eden  may  not  guide 
Arcturus  with  his  suns,  or  loose  the  bands  of  Orion,  or 
bind  the  sweet  influences  of  Pleiades,  though  they  may 
draw  down  and  harness  up  the  lightning,  defy  the  winds, 
and  glide  across  the  ocean !  We'll  roughly  hew  the  pre- 
cipice, not  polish  at  a  pebble.  'Tis  true  our  path's  not 
thornless,  with  its  wooden  Bible  and  its  gilded  priest — 
but  they  themselves  enhance  the  beauty  of  our  blind 
man's  dog. 


TARTAR  EMETIC. 


AN    EXCELLENT  SWEATING,  NAUSEATLNG,   AND  VOMIT- 
JNG   ARTICLE  FOR THE    PROFESSION. 

BY  THE  MEDICAL  HERETIC. 

The  original  name  for  the  substance  which  is  the  basis 
of  this  article,  is  "AntimoniumTartarizatum,"  which,  being 
interpreted,  means  "  Infernal  Ejector."  It  was  formerly- 
imagined  that  the  Devil  endowed  certain  substances 
with  malignant  properties,  for  the  express  purpose  of 
tormenting  mankind,  whom  he  hated,  on  account  of  an 
ancient  quarrel  which  never  had  been  adjusted  to  his 
satisfaction,  and  seemed  never  likely  to  be. 

As  his  Satanship  is  generally  emulous  of  acting  upon 
a  large  scale — doing  an  extensive  business — he  has  usually 
engaged  and  employed,  on  tolerably  liberal  terms,  a  nu- 
merous corps  of  assistants.  Great  warriors,  emperors 
and  kings  have  held  very  conspicuous  and  important  com- 
misions  from  their  great  exemplar.  Not  only  whole 
kingdoms,  but  whole  continents  have  been  assigned  to 
them,  to  be  tormented  in  the  most  systematic  and 
thorough  manner — and  the  work  has  generally  been  done 
to  order,  pretty  effectually. 

Another  class  of  persons  that  has  been  largely  engaged 
in  the  work  of  tormenting  mankind,  is  the  priesthood. 
Under    Pagan,    Jewish,    Mohammedan  and  Christian, 


TARTAB  EMETIC.  113 

whether  Papal  or  Protestant,  priestly  dominion,  mankind 
have  been  well  and  sufficiently  tormented.  The  poisons 
which  they  have  prepared  for  the  soul,  and  the  tortures 
which  they  have  invented  for  the  body,  sufficiently  attest 
their  ardor  in  the  cause,  and  their  success  in  its  prosecu- 
tion. Indeed,  the  clergy  are  usually  considered  to  have 
proved  themselves  very  much  more  capable  of  their  bus- 
iness, and  more  ingenious  and  resultful  in  it  than  the  laity. 
It  is  said,  upon  high  authority,  that  Rome  Papal  has  tor- 
mented the  world  a  thousand  times  more  than  Rome 
Pagan. 

The  philosophers  have  undoubtedly  been  enlisted  under 
the  banner  of  the  same  leader,  for  from  the  most  astute 
and  possessed  of  masters  of  the  art,  to  the  most  stolid 
and  destitute  teachers  of  it,  all  seem  to  have  been  engaged 
in  the  cause  of  tormenting  men's  minds,  if  not  their  bodies 
also.  From  the  Grecian  masters,  Plato  and  Aristotle, 
down  to  the  humble  village  schoolmaster,  there  is  evident- 
ly the  same  disposition  displayed,  to  torment  their  pupils. 
The  incomprehensible  axioms  propounded  by  the  great 
masters  of  instruction,  and  the  inexplicable  explications 
of  them  by  the  small  teachers  of  it,  sufficiently  attest  the 
truth  of  our  position,  that  the  Devil  has  pretty  consider- 
bly  be-devilized  our  philosophy. 

Although  the  lawyers,  who  received  so  remarkable  a 
condemnation  from  their  gentle  but  terrible  Judge,  the 
Saviour — as  recounted  in  the  Gospels — were  not  engaged 
in  the  study,  teaching  and  practice  of  mere  human  law,  but 
were  the  teachers  and  administrators  of  divine  law  ;  yet 
there  can  be  little  doubt  but  that  the  lawyers  of  all  coun- 
tries and  ages  have  merited  the  charge  brought  against 
their  Jewish  prototypes  and  brethren,  that  they  "bind 
heavy  burdens,  and  grievous  to  be  borne,  and  lay  them  on 
men's  shoulders !"  Indeed  it  has  been  well  said,  that  "  The 


114  TAETAR  EMETIC. 

object  of  modern  law,  and  the  practice  of  modern  lawyers, 
would  seem  to  a  disinterested,  upright  and  benevolent 
observer  from  another  world,  to  be  the  obliteration  of  the 
demarcations  of  justice,  the  confounding  of  right  and 
wrong,  the  mulcting  of  the  innocent,  and  the  clearing  of 
the  guilty  from  their  deservings !  " 

However,  though  martial  and  political  tyrants  plague 
the  estates  and  conditions  of  mankind — though  priests 
harass  their  souls,  and  oftentimes  their  bodies — though 
philosophers  distress  their  minds,  and  lawyers  augment 
the  misery  of  their  disturbed  relations  and  actions — the 
physicians  have  been  granted  the  possession  of  men's  cor- 
poral estate,  in  fee  simple,  for  ages  past,  as  a  corpus  vile, 
on  which  to  experiment,  after  the  manner  in  which  Job 
of  Uz  was  operated  upon  by  Satan  himself,  and  by  the 
Chaldeans,  and  Sabeans,  etc.,  who  were  employed  by  that 
distinguished  firm  aforementioned. 

It  would  hardly  be  fair  to  quote  Scripture  to  the  law- 
yers, and  not  cite  a  little  for  our  fraternity,  the  phy- 
sicians. It  appears  that  that  ancient  patriarch,  Job,  was 
acquainted  with  some  in  his  day,  a  few  specimens  of  whom 
have  been  found  in  every  subsequent  age,  confirmatory  of 
his  observations  upon  them !  They  were  described  by 
him — but  possibly  he  was  in  a  bad  humor — he  had  enough 
to  make  him  so — as  "  physicians  of  no  value." 

It  is  possible  that  some  ancient  Chaldee  MS.  of  the 
book  of  Job  may  throw  a  shadow  of  light  upon  this  very 
obscure  passage  ;  and,  therefore,  we  quote  mqre  benevo- 
lently and  justly  from  the  New  Testament,  where,  after 
having  critically  examined  the  Greek  text,  we  find  in  the 
Gospel  by  Mark,  a  statement  to  the  effect  that  a  woman 
"  had  suffered  many  things  of  many  physicians,  and  had 
spent  all  that  she  had,  and  was  nothing  better,  but  rather 
grew  worse."    Lest  some  justly  sensitive  persons,  more 


TARTAR  EMETIC.  115 

intimately  acquainted  with  prescriptions  than  with  Scrip- 
ture, doubt  the  authenticity  of  the  quotation,  we  give 
chapter  and  verse  :     Mark  v.  26. 

Our  own  experience  would  enable  us  to  write  a  very 
instructive  and  illustrative  commentary  on  this  remarkable 
text.  However,  for  the  present,  we  will  proceed  to  make, 
a  few  observations  on  the  subject  which  we  have  chosen 
for  our  article. 

When  a  person  is  exhausted,  terrified,  or  dying,  he  is 
generally  affected  with  profuse  sweats — and  ordinary 
persons  might  imagine  that  they  were  only  alarming 
proofs  of  his  debility.  Nothing  can  more  manifestly  prove 
the  fallacy  of  non-medical  logic.  In  these  cases,  the 
"  spasm  of  the  extreme  vessels  "  has  been  overcome  and  re- 
laxed, and  the  "  vis  medicatrix  naturae,"*  is  resuming  its 
power  over  the  functions.  The  learned  Stahl  observed 
that  the  breaking  out  of  a  sweat  preceded  the  term- 
ination of  a  fever,  as  well  as  that  of  a  man's  recovery 
from  a  fainting  fit,  exhaustion,  or  terror.  The  only  rea- 
son why  it  did  not  resuscitate  the  dying  man  was,  that 
it  did  not  continue  long  enough  ;  continue  the  sweating, 
and  the  man  would  recover,  or  never  die ! 

The  salutary  effects  of  sweating  are  very  many,  and 
very  manifest.  In  hot  weather  it  cools  us — in  cold 
weather  it  warms  us.  When  a  man  is  ready  to  burst  his 
brain  with  anxiety  or  rage,  a  copious  sweat  relieves  the 
vessels  of  a  quantity  of  serum,  and  saves  his  medullary 
and  cineritious  Batter — y !  How  many  of  our  fellow- 
citizens,  who  have  been  suddenly  afflicted  with  that  dis- 
tressing disease  ycleped  Quandary,  might  have  died  upon 
the  spot,  but  for  the  salutary  relief  of  a  copious  sweat. 

*  Wherever  this  term  Is  used  hereafter,  the  editor  hopes  the  reader  will  re- 
member it  means  "  the  curative  power  of  nature."  It  is  the  medicine  he  always 
prefers. 


116  TARTAR  EMETIC. 

We  opine  that  some  of  the  medical  readers  of  the 
Scalpel  would  increase  the  Inspector's  weekly  report  of 
deaths  from  congestion,  were  they  not  saved  by  a  timely 
perspiration.  Indeed,  we  have  constructed  our  present 
article  entirely  for  their  benefit,  and  we  hope  that  by  the 
•time  they  have  read  thus  far,  the  warm  stage  of  the  Scalpel 
Fever  has  come  on.  In  this  belief,  we  proceed  to  give 
the  sweating  dose. 

Suppose  a  physician  be  called  in  to  a  case  of  fever  or 
inflammation,  and  he  has  bled  his  patient  secundum  artem, 
per  scalpelium  chirurgicum,  scarificationes,  et  hirudines,  and 
purged  him  until  he  cannot  stand ;  has  given  him  calomel 
until  he  cannot  eat,  drink,  or  sleep  ;  and  has  blistered 
him  until  he  cannot  He  down,  and  still  the  disease  remains 
unsubdued,  in  spite  of  medical  treatment  enough  to  make 
a  well  man  ill  or  even  dead, — what  can  be  done  next  ; 
We  say,  give  him  Tartar  Emetic  and  sweat  him. 

It  is  well  known  that  when  we  take  anything  into  our 
stomachs  which  seems  very  unwilhng  to  stay  there,  or  let 
anything  else,  a  copious  sweating  is  produced,  which  is 
usually  followed  by  an  ejection  of  the  offending  substance. 
If  the  disease  will  not  run  off  through  open  veins,  nor  by 
the  inflamed,  distended,  and  broken-down  mucous  lining 
of  the  bowels,  nor  be  destroyed  by  "  mercurial  action," 
vulgarly  called  salivation,  but  by  the  doctors' "  ptyalism," 
it  is  perfectly  lawful,  according  to  medical  law,  to  sweat 
it  out  of  the  pores,  if  it  will  go  that  way,  or  even  vomit  it 
out  of  the  stomach,  if  it  is  in. 

Now  the  effects  of  Tartar  Emetic  on  the  body,  are  so 
close  an  imitation  of  disease,  that  some  persons  might 
imagine  there  was  as  real  a  Tartar  Emetic  disease  as 
there  is  a  calomel  one.  On  taking  a  sufficient  quantity, 
there  is  first  a  coldness,  shivering,  headache,  and  dull- 
ness felt ;  then  there  is  a  nausea,  and  this  is  followed  by 


TAETAB  EMETIC.  117 

sweating.  It  is  said  by  some  who  profess  to  know  some- 
thing about  the  matter,  that  this  process  is  so  exactly- 
similar  to  fever,  that  it  is  impossible  to  distinguish  the 
one  from  the  other.  There  are,  however,  some  very  im- 
portant distinctions  between  the  two,  which  we  shall  lay 
before  the  reader. 

Common  fever  is  caught  you  hardly  ever  know  how  ; 
whether  by  infection,  malaria,  exposure  to  cold,  fear,  or 
exhaustion.  Tartar  Emetic  fever  is  taken — by  taking 
Tartar  Emetic.  Common  fever,  if  let  alone,  will  usually 
leave  you  in  a  few  days.  Tartar  Emetic  fever  will,  if  well 
supplied  with  Tartar  Emetic,  last  a  few  weeks.  Common 
fever  is  caught  cheap,  even  gratis.  Tartar  Emetic  fever 
is  pretty  expensive  if  the  physician  who  prescribes  it,  and 
the  apothecary  who  prepares  it,  be  paid. 

There  is  a  still  further  difference  between  the  two. 
Common  fever  permits  you  to  get  well  very  rapidly,  as 
soon  as  it  has  ceased.  Tartar  Emetic  fever  causes  you 
to  get  well  very  slowly.  In  common  fever,  the  blood  has 
nothing  in  it  which  prevents  its  reorganization.  In 
Tartar  Emetic  fever  there  is  something  in  the  blood, 
which,  as  long  as  it  is  there,  effectually  prevents  its 
reorganization.  Moreover,  with  regard  to  common  fever, 
there  is  a  commonness,  a  vulgarity  about  it.  Emigrants, 
vagrants,  paupers  and  prisoners  can  and  do  have  it. 
Tartar  Emetic  fever  is  a  scientific,  respectable  and  genteel 
disease,  which  the  upper  class  generally  endure  The 
educated  and  refined  class  of  patients  will,  of  course, 
prefer  the  Tartar  Emetic  fever ! 

"We  do  not  intend  by  any  means  to  assert,  nor  even  to 
insinuate,  that  emigrants,  vagrants,  paupers  and  prisoners 
and  the  patients  of  dispensaries  and  hospitals,  do  not 
enjoy  the  benefits  of  Tartar  Emetic  treatment.  On  the 
contrary,  many  of  them  owe  their  permission  to  depart 


118  TABTAR  EMETIC. 

this  transitory  life  entirely  to  that  substance,  given  ad 
libitum — that  is,  with  professional  freedom.  The  chief 
difference  between  the  Tartar  Emetic  treatment  of  the 
rich  and  the  poor  is  this,  that  the  rich  are  nauseated  and 
sudorized  into  a  long  and  profitable  sickness,  while  the 
poor  are  vomited  and  purged  to  death,  bene  et  celeriter. 

Next  in  importance  to  calomel  in  the  profitable  treat- 
ment of  disease,  Tartar  Emetic  is  certainly  entitled  to  take 
the  lead.  It  is  given  in  small  quantity,  has  but  little 
taste,  does  a  great  deal  of  mischief,  and  no  one  either 
knows  it,  believes  it,  or  suspects  it.  So  far  from  this, 
everybody  supposes  it  to  be  either  harmless  or  useful. 
Its  effects  are  very  lasting,  and  can  easily  be  attributed  to 
anything  else  in  the  world  ;  so  that  its  good  can  be  report- 
ed far  and  wide,  and  its  evil  kept  quiet  or  silenced.  Its 
power  of  doing  harm,  under  so  fair  an  outward  garb, 
entitles  it  to  its  very  expressive  name,  and  renders  it 
worthy  of  its  paternity. 

See  what  an  admirable  medicine  it  is  for  medical  prac- 
tice amongst  children.  An  infant  is  ill,  and  the  physician 
cannot  tell  what  is  the  matter.  He  tries  to  look  at  its 
tongue,  and  feel  its  pulse — he  does  feel  its  skin,  and  in- 
quires respecting  a  number  of  immaterial  and  trival  mat- 
ters— bibs,  napkins,  and  diapers.  He  can  come  to  but 
one  conclusion.  Whatever  may  be  the  matter — respect- 
ing which  he  is  totally  uncertain,  and  perhaps  equally 
unconscious  and  unconcerned — Tartar  Emetic  is  the 
remedy.  The  child  must  be  put  into  warm  water,  and 
take  a  dose  of  Tartar  Emetic.  It  will  either  make  the  case 
better  or  worse,  or  change  the  symptoms  decidedly.  The 
uncertainty  or  the  child  will  be  removed,  and  the  case,  of 
course,  terminated. 

In  that  domestic  and  popular  climatic  disease,  the 
hives,  the  nature  and  symptoms  of  which,  every  woman 


TAETAB  EMETIC.  119 

thinks  she  knows  thoroughly,*  but  of  which  the  physician 
knows  nothing  more  than — that  it  is  an  eruption — it  is 
undoubtedly  proper,  that  for  an  unascertained  disease, 
an  uninvestigated  medicine  should  be  given.  Let  sweat- 
ing be  proposed,  and  Tartar  Emetic  can  be  administered. 
If  the  hives  are  not  very  apparent,  let  it  be  given  for  the 
purpose  of  bringing  them  out.  If  they  are  out,  let  it  be 
given  to  carry  them  away.  If  the  fever  be  high,  give  it 
to  lower  it.  If  it  be  low,  give  it  to  raise  it  and  sweat  it 
off — but  any  how  give  it. 

When  a  person  has  experienced  a  sudden  chill,  and  the 
mere  act  of  being  wrapped  up  in  a  warm  room,  or  of 
going  into  a  warm  bed,  would  relieve  him,  it  is  very  ad- 
visable, if  we  mean  to  make  anything  of  such  a  case,  to 
give  Tartar  Emetic.  Let  the  person  put  his  feet  into 
warm  water,  and  take  enough  of  the  medicine  to  cause 
nausea,  shivering,  and  headache.  The  chances  are  many 
that  by  such  a  course  of  treatment  a  tolerably  long  case 
of  fever  may  be  induced. — Try. 

We  are  deeply  indebted  to  some  newspaper  which  we 
looked  at  a  short  time  ago,  for  an  excellent  suggestion  as 
to  the  use  of  Tartar  Emetic.  It  was  to  this  effect :  "  If 
a  fish-bone  stick  in  your  throat,  take  a  dose  of  Tartar 
Emetic  to  vomit  you."  Now,  it  will  either  drive  the  bone 
out,  and  perhaps  tear  the  lining  membrane  of  the  throat, 
or  drive  it  into  the  substance  of  the  throat,  so  as  in  any 
case  to  clear  the  road. 

This  commended  itself  at  once  to  our  benevolenco  and 
commercial  disposition,  as  an  admirable  way  to  make  busi- 
ness. If  the  former  of  the  two  probable  results  happened 
there  would  be  an  opportunity  for  applying  leeches,  lotions 

*  The  editor  does  not  here  mean  the  Croup,  for  which  some  people  substi- 
tute the  word  Hives,  but  an  eruptive  complaint  about  the  body,  generally  though 
not  always,  occurring  in  infanta. 

6 


120  TARTAR  EMETIC. 

blisters,  and  ointments,  externally,  and  using  gargles, 
probings,  caustic  touchings,  and  so  forth,  internally,  be- 
side giving  drops,  if  not  mixtures,  and  troches,  or  powders 
to  dissolve  on  the  tongue.  Very  probably  a  moderate 
salivation  might  be  prescribed  for  such  a  case. 

If  the  latter  probability  occurred,  the  throat  might  re- 
quire the  operation  of  pharyngotomy,  or  in  plain  language, 
the  cutting  of  the  throat — and  a  long,  troublesome,  and 
expensive  attendance  would  be  requisite.  We  do  not  re- 
member the  name  of  the  medical  philanthropist  who  pro- 
posed this  excellent  mode  of  treatment,  but  we  presume 
that  some  of  our  professional  brethren  have  profited  by  his 
proposal. 

With  regard  to  rheumatism,  concerning  which  more 
has  been  written  than  has  been  read,  and  more  has  been 
read  than  is  worth  reading,  it  is  the  opinion  of  the  vulgar, 
that  this  disease  is  brought  on  by  exposure  of  the  body, 
while  sweating,  to  cold,  in  some  way — probably  a 
draught  of  cold  air.  Ordinary  and  unscientific  persons 
would  therefore  imagine,  in  their  ignorance,  that  to 
stop  the  sweating,  and  to  apply  heat,  would  be  bene- 
ficial. 

They,  of  course,  do  not  know  anything,  except  what 
they  learn  by  observation  and  experience  ;  and  those 
modes  of  knowledge  having  long  been  discarded  in  medi- 
cal philosophy,  the  mere  common  sense  of  mankind  is  not 
to  be  regarded.  One  of  two  modes  of  treatment  is  open 
to  you,  that  of  calomel  or  tartar  emetic.  If  you  employ 
the  former,  the  sweatings  will  be  of  the  cold  kind,  and 
occur  principally  at  night.  They  will  be  very  distressing, 
and  perhaps  even  dangerous — but  as  they  will  be  put 
down  to  the  disease,  and  not  to  the  remedy — which  is 
very  true,  there  being  no  remedy  employed — you  may,  if 
you  think  proper,  try  that  mode  of  treatment  for  a  week 


TABTAB    EMETIC.  121 

or  two,  but  the  tartar  emetic  treatment  presents  advan- 
tages superior  to  those  of  calomeL 

The  Tartar  Emetic  treatment  enables  you  to  operate  in 
a  most  effective  manner,  on  so  many  parts  and  functions 
of  the  body  at  the  same  time,  without  the  knowledge  or 
consent  of  the  patient.  In  a  pleasant  mixture  of  tartaric 
acid,  syrup  of  red  poppies  and  water,  you  can  put,  undis- 
coverable  by  the  patient,  as  much  of  Tartar  Emetic  as  will 
render  the  stomach  incapable  of  receiving  or  digesting  any 
food — the  brain  unfit  for  thinking  or  feeling — the  limbs 
as  useless  as  those  of  infancy — the  skin  unable  to  retain 
its  fluids — and  the  blood  unfit  for  any  of  the  purposes  of 
life,  except  that  of  producing  and  preserving  disease. 
How  valuable  such  a  medicine  is  to  medical  men,  they 
only  can  tell.  It  is  also  very  good  for  the  druggist. 
An  eight  ounce  mixture  costs  six-pence,  and  brings  half  a 
dollar? 

By  combination  of  the  advantages  of  the  calomel  and 
tartar  emetic  treatment  the  simplest  and  shortest  case  of 
rheumatism  may  be  converted  into  one  of  inexplicable 
complexity  and  interminable  continuance.  A  dose  of  cal- 
omel at  night  will  sufficiently  derange  the  blood  to  pre- 
vent any  useful  sleep,  even  though  opium  be  combined 
with  it,  for  the  purpose  of  procuring  some  artificially. 
A  few  doses  of  tartar  emetic  during  the  day,  will  so  far 
decompose  the  blood,  as  that  neither  pleasant  sensation 
nor  appetite  can  by  possibility  affect  the  patient.  He  is 
therefore  entirely  at  your  mercy, — just  where  he  ought  to 
be,  or  at  least  where  you  wish  him  to  be.  Indeed,  wheth- 
er you  or  desire  it  or  not,  there  he  is,  and  there  we  leave 
him  !    We  proceed  with  you. 

You  doubtless  have  frequently  experienced  the  saluta- 
ry relief  of  a  potent  sudorific,  when,  in  the  course  of  your 
medical  incursions  on  your  patients,  you  have  been  re- 


122  TARTAR  EMETIC. 

quested  to  state  the  nature  of  some  disease,  of  which  you 
were  entirely  ignorant,  and  to  explain  what  you  were  aim- 
in"'  to  accomplish — in  order  that  they  might  have  some- 
thing to  say  to  their  friends,  who  were  all,  not  only  anx- 
ious, but  anxiety  itself,  to  know  the  probable  fate  of  the 
patient.  We  give  you  an  excellent  specimen  of  a  learned 
and  scientific  mode  of  treating  such  a  case.  We  have 
learned  much  from  it  ourselves,  and  hope  you  will  learn 
something  : — 

A  lady  of  our  acquaintance,  deeply  interested  in  the  wel- 
fare of  a  friend,  who  was  under  "  medical  treatment,"  in- 
quired anxiously  of  the  attending  physician  what  was  her 
friend's  complaint  ?  The  learned  Esculapian  replied  with 
admirable  technical  tact — "  Oh !  she  has — hem,  hah — 
hydrothorax,  and  probably  hydrops  pericardii."  The  lady, 
unconscious  of  the  meaning  of  the  great  long  words,  gent- 
ly inquired  what  it  arose  from  ?  "  I  believe,"  said  he, 
making  an  excellent  deep,  long  hem,  "  she  has  had  an  at- 
tack of  pleuritis,  or  pericarditis."  The  lady  now  began  to 
perspire,  but  with  that  perseverance  which  characterizes 
a  benevolent  woman,  she  ventured  another  approach  to 
the  medical  luminary  for  a  ray  of  light,  and  inquired 
what  might  be  the  cause  of  her  ailment  ?  The  resources  of 
our  medical  brother  were  beginning  to  fail,  and  perspir- 
ation in  him  was  beginning  to  appear  ;  when  he  recover- 
ed from  his  quandary,  and  replied  with  an  admirably  im- 
portant deep  guttural  exclamation,  vulgarly  called  a  grunt, 
"Why — ee — a — a — General  Anasarca."  As  the  patient 
had  been  suspected  of  being  enceinte,  the  announcement 
of  so  distinguished  a  supposed  military  gentleman  being 
the  cause  of  the  ailment,  was  almost  enough  to  throw  our 
friend  into  hysterics.  She,  however,  with  her  handker- 
chief in  hand,  ready  to  be  applied  to  her  face  in  case  of 
necessity,  meekly  inquired  what  the  probable  result  might 


TAETAR  EMETIC.  123 

be,  when  she  received  the  consoling  information,  that 
probably  the  patient  might  become  anemious  !  The  lady- 
was  silenced. 

[The  editor  takes  the  liberty  to  explain,  that  hydrotho- 
rax  means  dropsy  of  the  chest.  Hydrops  pericardii  means 
dropsy  of  the  heart.  That  pleuritis  means  inflammation 
of  the  covering  of  the  lungs.  Pericarditis,  inflammation 
of  the  covering  of  the  heart.  That  general  anasarca  means 
common  dropsy,  and  anemious  signifies  want  of  blood. 
He  deems  these  explanations  due  to  the  dignity  of  the 
profession.] 

We  shall  now  treat  of  the  valuable  properties  of  tartar 
emetic,  in  cases  of  lung  disease.  We  are  at  present  at- 
tending a  lady  in  the  last  stage  of  consumption,  who 
might  have  sunk  to  her  grave  very  comfortably,  without 
requiring  our  aid,  but  for  the  administration  of  tartar 
emetic  by  some  previous  physician,  who  positively  assur- 
ed her,  that  two  or  three  vomits  with  it  would  certainly 
cure  her.  She  declined  that  mode  of  cure  for  a  long  time, 
but  at  last,  overpersuaded,  she  took  one,  which  caused  a 
vessel  to  burst  in  her  lungs,  and  made  us  a  very  interest- 
ing case  ;  for  the  lady  dismissed  the  emetic  doctor  and 
sent  for  ourselves.  Of  course  we  are  obliged  to  both  doc- 
tor and  patient,  as  we  obtain  a  few  fees,  and  acquire 
some  valuable  information — heu  mihi  ! — and  the  means 
of  filling  up  our  article !  No  one,  without  trying,  can 
conceive  the  difficulty  that  is  experienced  in  "getting 
up"  an  article  like  this.  Were  it  not  for  the  ignor- 
ance and  error  of  our  beloved  brethren,  we  should  not 
have  anything  to  write  about.  As  Touchstone  says  to 
Audrey,  "  Praised  be  the  stars  for  ignorance  !" 

In  the  inflammation  of  the  lungs,  tartar  emetic  is  a 
specific — that  is,  it  exactly  suits  the  case.  In  this  dis- 
ease, the  substance  of  the  lungs  through  which  the  blood 


124  TARTAR  EMETIC. 

has  to  pass,  is  disorganized,  so  that  it  cannot  admit  the 
blood  through  without  much  pain,  or  cannot  admit  it  at 
all.  In  the  exercise  of  sound  medical  logic,  tartar 
emetic  is  required  to  disorganize  the  blood,  in  order  to 
accommodate  the  condition  of  the  blood  to  that  of  the 
solids.  It  has  been  most  satisfactorily  proved  by  the 
celebrated  Louis,  that  fewer  patients  are  killed  by  this 
mode  of  treatment  than  by  being  bled  to  death,  and 
many  of  our  ablest  physicians  are  not  only  convinced  of 
this  truth,  but  converted  to  it.  Before  the  discovery  and 
announcement  of  this  pathological  myth,  it  would  have 
been  considered  a  murderous  proceeding,  to  give  half- 
drachm  doses  of  tartar  emetic  to  persons  with  any  sort 
of  lungs  or  stomachs !  However,  now,  it  is  clear  that  we 
are  unpardonable,  if  we  let  any  die  of  inflammation  of  the 
lungs,  since  they  can  be  killed  so  much  more  speedily 
and  easily  by  tartar  emetic. 

But  we  recollect  that  this  is  entitled  a  diaphoretic  for 
the  profession,  and  as  we  desire  their  recovery,  not  their 
demise,  we  must  be  careful  not  to  continue  the  diaphore- 
sis beyond  its  therapeutic  effect.  "VVe  are  convinced  that 
sweating  may  be  kept  up  too  long  and  profusely,  espe- 
cially if  the  patient  be  a  doctor,  for  he  is  usually  of  a 
very  impressible  nature  ;  we  therefore  propose  to  allow 
a  considerable  interval  between  our  doses.  This  will  give 
time  for  reflection  on  our  next  prescription,  and  the  "  vis 
medicatrix  "  to  act.  Wise  doctors  always  prefer  to  keep 
that  loving  old  mother  as  near  by  as  possible,  consist- 
ently with  their  own  dignity. 


SCENES  IN  A  MEDICAL  STUDENT'S  LIFE.-RE- 
SURRECTIONIZING. 


"The  sleeping  and  the  dead 
Are  but  as  pictures :  'tis  the  eye  of  childhood 
That  fears  a  painted  devil." 

"  The  body  of  man,  decomposed  "by  putrefaction,  re- 
mains a  light  skeleton  and  a  little  earth,  when  the  ground 
and  the  winds  have  withdrawn  all  its  juices."  This 
beautiful  quotation  of  the  physiologist  will  convey  to  the 
reader  an  idea  of  the  indifference  to  censure  with  which 
we  proceed  to  give  some  reminiscences  of  our  student's 
life  ;  and  yet,  as  it  has  been  our  custom  to  appeal  to  the 
judgment  rather  than  the  passions,  pray  tell  me,  reader, 
if  you  can  realize  the  fact  that  you  are  only  human,  and 
may  some  day  require  the  aid  of  the  actual  scalpel  to 
preserve  your  life,  on  which  would*  you  prefer  the  first 
experiment  to  be  made — the  dead  body,  soon  to  be  re- 
solved into  its  elements  and  to  mingle  with  the  earth  and 
air,  or  on  your  wife  or  child,  or  your  own  precious  per- 
son ?  Over  the  broad  extent  of  this  favored  land  there 
is  an  awful  amount  of  accidents,  originating  in  our 
national  carelessness  and  hurry,  requiring  the  minutest 
knowledge  of  anatomy.  A  hair's  breadth  often  inter- 
venes between  a  vein  or  artery  and  death.  There  is,  we 
will  assure  you,  a  vast  diversity  of  talent  in  the  surgeons 
so  heartlessly  diploma'd  by  our  shameless  colleges.  You 
cannot  always  be  in  New  York,  and  have  an  expert  oper- 


126  SCENES  IN  A    MEDICAL    STUDENT'S  LIFE. 

ator ;  you  may  require  instant  surgical  aid  in  the  far 
"West,  and  be  obliged  to  summon  your  farmer  surgeon 
from  bis  log  cabin.  Would  you  have  bim  more  familiar 
with  tbe  plough  than  the  scalpel  ?  The  first  operation 
we  ever  performed  was  for  strangulated  rupture,  at  mid- 
night, on  a  pauper  woman,  in  a  garret,  with  the  Hght  of 
a  single  dip  candle  in  a  black  bottle,  held  by  a  drunken 
woman.  "We  had  made,  when  at  college,  most  diligent 
use  of  the  shovel  and  the  scalpel,  and  our  poor  brains 
besides,  but  verily  we  found  no  surplus  anatomy  on  this 
trying  occasion.  You  will  perceive  in  our  sketches,  that 
we  never  unearth  gentle  clay,  and  we  were  very  careful 
to  restore  to  order  all  visible  indications  of  our  midnight 
doings  about  the  grave,  and  even  in  the  pauper  burial 
places,  precisely  as  we  all  do  with  our  faces  and  our  de- 
portment after  some  wanton  and  wicked  outrage  against 
our  fellows  ;  such,  for  instance,  as  destroying  a  human 
life  for  want  of  anatomical  knowledge.  Poh !  away  with 
hypocrisy. .  "We  will  tell  our  story  as  we  please,  reader  ; 
you  know  us,  or  we  would  not  give  much  for  your  per- 
ception of  character  if  you  did  not  by  this  time. 

In  the  year  of  1831,  when  the  feud  between  the  old 
Barclay  Street  College  and  the  Rutgers  Faculty,  who  had 
seceded  from  that  old  medical  Chelsea,  where  they  now 
humanely  keep  some  of  their  professors  for  their  antiquity 
— when  Hosack  and  Mott,  Macneven,  Francis,  and  the 
glorious  and  lamented  Godmaii  had  intrenched  them- 
selves in  Duane  Street — when  the  feud  was  at  its  highest, 
among  the  amiable  methods  they  contrived  of  annoying 
each  other  and  rendering  their  separate  classes  more  fit 
for  the  responsible  duty  of  surgeons,  was  that  of  cutting 
off  the  supply  of  materiel  for  the  dissecting  room.  Who- 
ever bid  highest  to  induce  the  keeper  of  Potter's  field  to 
tie  up  his  dogs,  get  drunk,  and  go  quietly  to  bed,  was 


SCENES  DT  A  MEDICAL   STUDENT'S  LIFE.  127 

allowed  to  monopolize  the  pauper  bodies,  and  so  one  or 
the  other  of  the  colleges  was  sure  to  be  in  the  vocative, 
greatly  to  the  injury  of  the  unsuccessful  one.  It  is  true 
that  such  deprivation  of  college  privileges  was  not  very 
distressing  to  most  of  the  students,  who  were  traveling 
the  scientific  highway  in  silk  stockings,  and  felt  the  inti- 
mate relation  between  a  rich  father's  pocket  and  their 
sheep-skins  proper  and  prospective  ;  but  there  were  a 
few  of  us  who  looked  to  our  profession  only  for  advance- 
ment, yet  who  could  not  forget  the  charms  of  whiskey 
punches  and  choice  Havanas,  with  an  occasional  theatre 
or  opera  ticket.  This  drew  so  deeply  on  the  pocket,  and 
our  surgical  anatomy  was  so  imperative  in  its  requisi- 
tions, that  wo  resolved  to  turn  resurrectionists  for 
ourselves. 

Our  class  consisted  of  four,  but  one  was  indolent  and 
wealthy,  and  so  three  of  us  had  to  do  the  work.  This, 
however,  was  just  the  number  required  ;  one  to  take 
charge  of  the  wagon  and  horse,  one  to  look  out,  and  one 
to  dig,  occasionally  relieved  by  the  sentry,  who  was  usu- 
ally posted  behind  a  stone  fence  near  the  road  ;  by 
throwing  small  pebbles  he  gave  notice  to  the  digger  when 
the  approach  of  a  pedestrian  or  horseman  required  the 
cautious  handling  of  the  shovel.  Bemember,  reader,  we 
always  unearthed  common  clay,  where  there  were  no 
aristocratic  monuments  to  skulk  behind  ;  the  slightest 
token  of  affection,  the  frailest  memorial,  would  have  pro- 
tected the  humblest  remains  from  our  touch,  as  though 
guarded  with  the  flaming  sword  ;  living  affection  would 
have  hallowed  the  spot  with  either  of  us  and  rendered 
our  steps  sacrilege,  for  a  noble  heart  was  his  who  assisted 
me  ;  alas !  he  lies  far  away  in  a  southern  clime,  a  victim 
to  science.  That  noble  heart,  that  clear  intellect,  intent 
on  ambition's  most  holy  return — the  knowledge  of  curing 


128  SCENES  IN  A  MEDICAL  STUDENT'S  LIFE. 

disease — lias  ceased  to  beat.*  "Closed  for  aye  is  the 
speaking  glance  that  dwelt  on  me  so  kindly."  Yet,  as  I 
pen  these  boyish  lines,  I  recall  with  a  tear  and  a  sigh 
that  one  so  true  should  have  been  cut  down  on  the  very 
threshold  of  the  temple,  whose  corner  stone  had  been 
laid  so  securely  on  the  foundation  of  anatomy. 

Uncle  Sam's  men  were  in  high  repute  with  us  as  sub- 
jects, from  their  fine  development  of  muscle  ;  and  when 
the  poor  fellows  would  "  slip  their  wind,"  after  returning 
from  a  cruise,  they  were  at  that  time  planted  in  a  very 
convenient  place,  in  rows,  on  a  certain  side  hill,  some- 
where in  a  place  which  it  would  at  present  be  difficult  to 
recognize.  "VVe  will  tell  you  a  tale  about  that  hill  that 
will  move  your  risibles  a  little.  We  took  a  flying  leap 
there  of  some  thirty  feet  or  so,  in  company  with  a  six- 
foot  fellow  we  had  bagged,  that  made  the  darkness  of 
our  intellectual  regions  for  a  few  minutes  a  little  more 
apparent  than  we  thought  either  agreeable  or  whole- 
some ;  but  let  us  begin  at  the  beginning. 

One  stormy  day  in  December,  when  we  felt  very  little 
like  investigating  the  intricacies  of  the  sphenoid  bone  or 
dissecting  the  semi-lunar  plexus,  we  had  dispatched  our 
friend  to  our  favorite  ground  to  reconnoitre  for  the  fresh 
spat  of  a  shovel  at  the  end  of  the  row — for  they  put  the 
poor  fellows  "  in  line,"  even  when  dead,  and  ground  is 
dear  where  affection  does  not  select  the  spot.  We  were 
talking  very  learnedly,  no  doubt,  beneath  the  roof  of  old 
Rutgers  College  in  Duane  Street,  when  his  clear  voice 
was  heard  coming  up  stairs,  and  singing,  "  Oh !  'tis  my 
delight  of  a  stormy  night,  in  the  season  of  the  year," 
interspersed  with  "  And  a  hunting  we  will  go — o — o — a 

*  Abel  J.  Starr,  the  editor's  class-mate ;  he  died  at  Madeira,  from  phthisis, 
developed  by  a  wound  received  in  dissecting,  and  hastened  by  constitutional 
irritability,  the  result  of  excessive  smoking  and  the  injudicious  use  of  mercury. 


SCENES  IN  A  MEDICAL  STUDENT'S  LIFE.  129 

hunting  we  will  go !"  4Fhen  came  the  Scotch  growl  of 
old  Jemmy  Henderson,  the  janitor,  outside  of  our  door, 
"rousing  and  growling  in  his  den,"  and  muttering, 
"  And  a  braw  time  ye'll  hae  o't,  ye  deevil's  babbies — hell 
taak  ye.  I'll  niver  say  to  him  nae  should  he  come  this 
minute."  Poor  old  Jem !  If  ye  were  judged  on  yer  own 
merits  "down  thar,"  ye  know  by  this  time  a  thing  or 
two  about  yer  own  comparison  of  the  dissecting  room 
furnace  to  a  certain  place.  Jemmy  was  only  blessing  us 
in  his  amiable  way,  for  doing  him  out  of  his  perquisites 
by  the  profits  he  made  on  the  subjects  that  ought  to  have 
been  brought  in  by  the  employed  resurrectionists  of  the 
college,  who  were  bribed  by  the  Barclay  Street  professors 
to  cut  us  off.  Cursing  us  in  his  throat,  he  bawled  out  to 
our  class-mate  as  he  crossed  the  garret  where  the  general 
students  were  accommodated — we  occupied  our  private 
room — "  Ye'll  no  find  the  dhure  apen  and  ye  bring  all 
Potter's  field  wi'  ye  ;  and  I  dare  say  ye'll  raise  the  diwel 
some  nicht  and  bring  the  haal  police  on  us."  Our  friend 
said  nothing,  for  he  knew  Jemmy  was  only  reminding  us 
how  to  open  the  door  with  a  silver  key  ;  he  brought  the 
news  that  a  body  had  been  deposited  that  day,  and  we 
adjourned  immediately  to  prepare.  Our  rendezvous  was 
at  the  ferry  house,  at  twelve  o'clock  ;  one  was  to  go  for 
the  wagon,  a  couple  of  shovels,  a  sort  of  pry  to  get  off  the 
lid,  and  a  few  bunches  of  straw  to  cover  the  suspicious 
outline  of  a  large  salt  sack,  when  on  our  return  we  had 
bagged  the  game, 

A  man  may  cross  the  Atlantic  a  dozen  times,  and  even 
go  over  the  New  Haven  Railroad,  and  not  be  killed,  and 
then  step  from  his  door-step  and  break  his  neck  ;  and  so 
it  proved  on  the  expedition  we  are  going  to  relate.  We 
had  been  near  a  dozen  times  to  our  favorite  ground,  and 
brought  away  as  many  good  fellows ;  but  this  time  we 


130  SCENES  IN   A   MEDICAL  STUDENT'S  LIFE. 

■were  destined  to  experience  a  most  laughable  combina- 
tion of  accidents.  'Twas  dark  as  Erebus  (we  never 
courted  moon-light  on  such  poetical  occasions  :)  we  rode 
comfortably  on,  and  had  made  nearly  all  the  sinuosities 
of  the  road,  and  our  steed  was  so  entirely  acquainted  with 
his  journey,  that  I  am  puzzled  to  this  day  to  know  what 
evil  spirit  possessed  him  on  this  unfortunate  night.  We 
had  already  arranged  our  plan  of  action  as  we  neared 

the  ground.     S and  I  were  to  dig  and  act  sentinel 

alternately,  and  H to  drive  up  and  down  the  road  a 

mile  or  so  and  return,  till  called  by  the  sentinel,  when 
the  body  should  be  bagged  and  brought  up  to  the  stone 
wall  next  the  road  ;  we  were  jogging  slowly  on,  when  all 
at  once  off  the  side  of  a  high  bank  we  pitched  into  an  in- 
fernal mud-hole,  where  horses  had  been  driven  from  the 
road  by  the  farmers,  to  wet  their  wagon  wheels.  We 
were  all  pitched  clear  over  the  mud  on  the  other  side  of 
the  pond,  and  arose  bruised,  but  not  seriously  hurt ;  our 
steed  lay  on  his  side,  head  and  nose  under  the  mud,  and 
the  shaft  broken  and  under  his  side,  most  ominously 
still ;  we  all  started  to  our  feet,  and  as  we  were  pretty 
cool  characters,  our  first  thought  was  for  him.  I  raised 
his  head  and  placed  it  on  my  knee  ;  he  soon  breathed, 

and  snorted  vociferously  ;  S had  to  hold  him  down 

by  the  bridle,  while  H pitched  into  the  mud  knee- 
deep  to  unbuckle  the  traces.  He  soon  got  loose  the  one 
on  the  upper  side,  but  was  obliged  to  cut  the  other  ;  this 
we  were  glad  to  do,  for  we  greatly  dreaded  that  the  endq, 
of  the  broken  shaft  which  we  had  heard  snap  off  should 
pierce  his  body.  As  soon  as  we  got  him  on  his  legs  we 
examined  his  flank,  and  found  all  sound,  to  our  great 
relief,  as  he  was  a  valuable  animal.  A  passing  couple  of 
countrymen  hailed  us,  and  offered  assistance  ;  but  we 
thanked  them,  and  played  drunken  dandy,  "  dem  foine," 


SCENES  IN  A  MEDICAL  STUDENT'S  UFE.  131 

just  enough  to  disgust  them,  and  they  went  on  highly- 
amused  at  our  disaster.  On  hauling  out  the  wagon,  we 
found  the  cut  trace  and  the  broken  shaft  were  all  the 
damage  it  had  sustained.  A  piece  of  the  rope  which  was 
to  be  used  to  raise  the  body,  answered  well  enough  for  a 
trace  ;  but  as  we  could  spare  no  more  of  it,  we  found  a 
substitute  where  none  but  the  sagacity  of  a  surgeon 
would  look  for  it.  The  shaft  was  fractured  obliquely  ; 
we  "  set  the  bone  and  bandaged  the  limb."  We  will  give 
you  time  to  guess  where  we  procured  the  bandages. 
They  were  not  exactly  made  of  "  snow-white  seventeen 
hunder  linen,"  like  poor  Burns's  cuttie  sarks,  but  we  cer- 
tainly did  all  of  us  complain  before  we  left  the  ground  of 
the  unusual  coolness  of  our  extremities.  "We  had  taken 
off  our  over-coats,  to  be  sure  ;  but  that  was  not  exactly 
the  reason,  either. 

I  said  that  old  Jemmy's  curse  would  stick,  and  so  it 
did ;  for  surely  the  "  deil  had  set  his  seal  on  this  vara 
nicht."  "We  were  working  about  half-way  up  a  hill  whose 
apex  was  full  thirty  feet  above  the  level  of  the  road  where 
we  left  our  wagon.  The  sentinel  had  repeated  occasion 
to  warn  the  digger  of  the  approach  of  wagons  and  pedes- 
trians :  several  had  stopped  to  listen  whilst  I  was  on 
watch  ;  but  two  or  three  pebbles,  timely  thrown,  stopped 
the  digger.  I  "kept  shady"  under  the  wall,  and  they 
went  on  apparently  satisfied.  When  the  body  was  in 
the  sack,  and  the  grave  filled  up,  we  consulted  on  the 
propriety  of  summoning  our  wagoner  when  he  should 
next  pass,  and  had  concluded  to  carry  the  body  down  to 
the  wall  immediately  next  the  road,  as  usual,  and  have 
all  ready  to  lift  it  in  ;  but  so  many  persons  passed  whilst 
we  were  both  skulking  behind  the  wall,  and  we  had  kept 
our  place  so  unsullied  by  suspicion  for  two  years,  that  we 
concluded  it  would  be  better  to  carry  our  prize  around 


132  SCENES  IN  A  MEDICAL  STUDENT'S  LIFE. 

the  apex  of  the  hill  to  the  stone  wall  on  the  other  or 
opposite  side,  where  we  knew  there  was  also  a  road  ;  for 
we  had  driven  round  the  hill  before,  and  H had  sev- 
eral times  done  the  same  that  night,  whilst  we  were 
digging,  for  I  had  observed  him  coming  up  from  that 

direction  whilst  on  the  watch.     Accordingly,  S was 

deputed  to  go  up  the  road  where  H had  last  gone 

with  the  wagon,  and  go  round  with  him  to  meet  me  with 
the  body  on  the  other  road.  Off  he  went,  and  I  having 
taken  a  good  pull  at  the  bottfe  of  port  we  always  took 
with  us,  shouldered  our  prize.  'Twas  a  dead  lift  in 
good  earnest,  but  I  trudged  on  manfully,  feeling  the 
importance  of  the  trust.  I  certainly  had  not  got  more 
than  forty  rods,  and  began  to  think  myself  every  inch  a 
man,  when,  presto!  down  went  I,  body  and  all,  down, 
down  the  precipitous  hill-side,  and  found  myself  in  the 
middle  of  the  road,  with  the  dead  body  beside  me. 
Heaven  and  earth  !  how  my  ears  did  ring,  and  how  the 
fire  did  fly  before  my  eyes !  darkness  was  of  no  use  to 
me,  and  such  light  as  I  had  rather  worse.  I  gathered 
myself  up  and  stood  on  my  legs,  to  assure  myself  that 
Jemmy's  prayer  was  not  really  answered,  and  I  on  my 
actual  road  to  the  place  where  he  so  often  wished  me  ; 
the  coolness  of  the  air  gave  me  assurance  ;  I  was  still  on 
earth,  and  the  fire  had  left  my  eyes.  I  dragged  the  body 
to  the  side  of  the  road,  and  limped  off  to  go  round  the 
hill  where  I  knew  they  would  expect  me.  They  had  cut 
a  street  through  the  hill,  and  completely  divided  it,  since 
we  were  there  the  winter  before.  This  explained  my 
mishap,  and  afforded  facilities  to  approach  the  body  with 
the  wagon  and  my  comrades. 

I  fortunately  found  my  friends  just  as  I  had  reached 
the  end  of  the  newly  cut  road,  going  round  to  the  other 
side  of  the  hill  as  agreed  on  when  I  left  S to  convey 


SCENES  IN  A  MEDICAL  STUDENT'S  LIFE.  133 

the  body  there.  S was  inclined  to  blame  our  com- 
panion who  drove  the  wagon,  for  not  discovering  the 
new  cut ;  but  I  took  his  part  roundly,  for  that  was  not 
suspected  by  any  of  us,  and  formed  no  part  of  the  plan, 
as  preconcerted  and  practiced  on  all  previous  occasions. 

We  had  always  entered  and  come  out  of  the  ground 
on  one  side,  and  that  was  agreed  upon  as  usual.  There 
happened  to  be  more  passing  than  usual  on  this  night, 
and  that  caused  the  change  in  our  plan.     I  soon  laughed 

them  into  a  good  humor  ;  and  H went  for  the  tools 

on  foot,  whilst  we  drove  slowly  on. 

But  the  curse  of  old  Jemmy  pursued  us.  "We  got  on 
well  enough  till  we  had  driven  on  board  the  boat,  and 
were  half-way  over,  when  our  steed  began  to  shiver  and 
shake  as  though  in  an  ague  fit ;  he  was  frightened  at 
some  moving  lights  in  a  little  shallop  that  passed  us. 
H was  capital  at  mimicking  a  drunkard,  and  he  usu- 
ally took  the  precaution  upon  crossing  to  lie  down  on  the 
straw  by  the  side  of  the  body,  with  his  cloak  over 
both. 

On  this  occasion  a  couple  of  fellows  were  unusually 
impertinent,  and  amused  themselves  with  peering  into 
the  wagon  and  talking  to  him.  My  other  companion 
was  inclined  to  give  them  some  idea  of  the  hardness  of 
his  knuckles  ;  but  fortunately  the  boat  reached  the  land- 
ing, and  they  ceased  their  impudence,  before  his  wrath 
culminated  to  the  striking  point. 

Now,  at  least,  we  thought  our  prize  secure  ;  but  devil 
a  bit ;  we  were  not  yet  done  with  old  Jemmy's  curse.  It 
was  four  o'clock,  and  the  lamps  gave  an  uncomfortable 
view  to  the  watchmen  of  our  bedraggled  steed  and  equi- 
page. We  dared  not  play  drunk  to  break  the  suspicious 
silence,  for  then  they  would  nab  us  for  sure  ;  and  the 
thought  of  the  station  house  and  "his  honor,"  a  snub- 


134  SCENES  IN  A  MEDICAL  STUDENT'S  LIFE. 

nosed,  half-drunken  justice,  was  very  repulsive  to  Escula- 
pian  dignity  ;  and  then  the  loss  of  such  a  tall  fellow  as 
we  had  bagged!  'twas  hard  to  contemplate.  As  we 
neared  the  college  we  drove  round  a  square  extra,  to  give 

time,  and  sent  S to  see  if  the  door  was  open,  as  old 

Jem  had  promised.  We  were  to  go  down  Duane  Street 
directly  up  to  the  college,  and  had  turned  the  Broadway 
corner  when  he  appeared,  and  muttered  sotto  voce,  "  Go 
round  Manhattan  Alley  to  the  back  gate  ;  the  old  rascal 
has  locked  the  door."  I  have  never  heard  it  remarked, 
because  there  were  few  stirring  at  the  hour,  but  I  fancy 
if  any  one  had  been  looking  at  our  wagon  just  as  that 
announcement  was  made,  that  they  would  have  seen  blue 
flames  on  all  sides  of  it ;  and  just  at  the  same  moment 
old  Jem  must  have  felt  his  old  Scotch  blood  get  warmer 
in  his  bunk  ;  had  it  been  in  our  power  we  would  have 
given  him  over  at  once  to  Auld  Clootie.  We  often  talked 
of  Burking  him,  when  subjects  were  scarce,  but  concluded 
'twas  no  use  ;  for  there  was  not  a  set  of  scalpels  that  his 
hide  would  not  have  turned  the  edges  of,  in  the  college  ; 
indeed,  it  is  very  doubtful  if  fire  has  yet  touched  him, 
and  he  be  not  this  very  minute  at  his  old  trade  of  sorting 
over  the  "  soojets,"  as  he  always  called  our  subjects,  in  a 
more  uncomfortable  place  than  even  old  Kutgers. 

We  drove  round,  and  found  the  gate  barred,  of  course  ; 
but  there  were  no  watchmen  to  plague  us  ;  such  wretches 
as  lived  in  that  delectable  and  aromatic  alley  were  not 

worth  watching.     S climbed  over  the  fence,  and  in  a 

few  minutes  we  had  our  game  safely  in  our  own  room. 
Jemmy  looked  very  mean  next  morning,  because  we  had 
not  been  captured  by  the  watch,  which  he  undoubtedly 
intended,  and  muttered  his  Scotch  curses  as  usual  when 
he  saw  us  all  enter  the  college  hall  at  nine  o'clock,  as 
though  we  had  been  safe  in  our  beds  all  nioht.     He  did 


SCENES  IN  A  MEDICAL  STUDENT'S  UFE.  135 

not  come  "  oot  o'  his  nime "  when  we  entered  by  the 
over-the-fence  way,  and  therefore  did  not  know  how  suc- 
cessful we  had  been.  "We  saw  him  peering  through  the 
key-hole  next  day,  but  he  pretended  to  be  only  sweeping  ; 
nor  would  he  condescend  to  speak  to  us  for  several  days. 
The  first  distinct  utterance  of  his  amiable  eloquence  that 
reached  me  was  more  than  a  week  afterwards,  after  he 
had  received  a  blowing  up  for  not  attending  to  his  duties, 
by  the  professor  of  anatomy.  "  How  can  sich  meeserable 
wratches  expect  a  mon  to  waat  on  'em  when  thae  young 
deevils  would  go  ayont  h — 1  for  a  soojet,  and  taak  the 
vara  bred  oot  a  mon's  mooth!  Ill  gie  up  the  place,  I 
will." 

And  what  think  you,  reader,  of  resurrectionizing  ? 
Who  was  hurt  ?  The  poor  clay  lately  "  stretched  in  dis- 
ease's shape  abhorred,"  or  trained  to  be  "  mown  in  battle 
by  the  sword,"  "like  grass  beneath  the  scythe?"  The 
heart  that  animated  that  frame  was  never  "pregnant 
with  celestial  fire,"  nor  could  those  hands  "  have  waked 
to  ecstasy  the  living  lyre."  "  No  frail  memorial  implored 
even  the  passing  tribute  of  a  sigh."  The  living  were 
glad  to  hide  it  from  view,  as  a  loathsome,  worthless 
thing.  "We  have  the  pleasing  consciousness,  whenever 
called  on  to  use  our  anatomical  knowledge  to  relieve  hu- 
man misery,  that  we  made  a  use  of  the  body  far  more 
acceptable  to  God  and  our  own  conscience,  than  had  it 
been  embalmed  in  the  spices  of  Arabia,  and  entombed  in 
the  most  costly  mausoleum  of  affection.  One  mother's 
heart  saved  to  beat  a  little  longer  whilst  watching  over  a 
helpless  family,  one  pair  of  toil-worn  hands  yet  animated 
by  life  through  the  knowledge  derived  by  the  possession 
of  that  poor  body,  is  more  comforting  to  our  soul  this 
day  than  the  applause  of  millions,  had  we  led  him  to  the 
fight  and  freely  let  out  his  life's  blood,  to  win  for  ourself 


136  SCENES  IN  A  MEDICAL  STUDENT'S  LITE. 

the  praises  of  a  thoughtless  nation — a  nation  who  have 
required  a  century  to  learn  the  awful  importance  of  le- 
galizing the  science  of  anatomy !  It  was  the  wish  of  that 
dear  friend  who  was  our  active  companion  on  that  occa- 
sion, that  his  body  should  be  applied  to  the  uses  of  the 
science  that  finally  destroyed  him.  And  the  body  of  the 
glorious  Grodman,  who  taught  anatomy  in  that  college 
before  the  lamented  Bushe,  now  fills  a  niche  in  the  Phil- 
adelphia College,  with  this  memorable  inscription :  "  A 
teacher  of  anatomy  in  life,  a  willing  tributary  in  death." 
We  sympathize  with  the  loving  heart  that  lingers  round 
the  spot  where  rest  the  ashes  of  the  loved  one  ;  but  when 
we  reflect  that  all  that  live  are  but  as  nothing  to  those 
that  have  returned  to  dust,  we  are  inclined  to  think  that 
he  who  supposes  we  were  wrongfully  employed  on  that 
occasion  is  cultivating  an  emotion  that  will  never  expand 
into  philanthropy  or  justice. 

P.  S. — Whilst  these  lines  are  passing  through  the 
press,  we  read  in  the  papers  the  braying  of  a  senseless 
idiot  who  holds  a  position  as  probate  judge  of  Covington, 
Ky.,  that  our  beloved  friend  and  correspondent,  Dr.  Byrd 
Powell  of  that  city,  is  pronounced  a  madman  because  he 
had  the  generosity  and  dignity  to  leave  his  head  to  illus- 
trate that  science  his  eloquent  pen  could  no  longer 
illustrate.  He  was  the  pupil  of  Godman,  and  the  illus- 
trious discoverer  of  the  law  of  physiological  marriage. 


A   GONE  FOX. 


THE  LAST  WORDS  OF  AN  OLD  MEDICAL  FOX,  CAUGHT  IN  THE  HOSPITAL  TRAP,  TO 
HIS  YOUNG  BRETHREN  OUTSIDE. 


My  Deae  Children  : — It  is  natural  for  one  so  near  the 
close  of  his  career,  to  feel  the  affection  of  a  parent  for  the 
little  band  of  young  brothers,  who  have  so  affectionately 
stood  by  him  for  the  past  six  years  of  an  eventful  life,  and 
I  hope  that  the  words  of  advice  and  caution  I  may  de- 
liver to  you,  will  be  duly  appreciated.  There  can  be  no 
doubt,  that  when  the  heartless  wretches  come  to  seek  the 
result  of  their  infernal  trap,  I  shall  behold  you  for  the  last 
time ;  indeed,  I  would  advise  you,  however  your  hearts 
may  bleed,  to  take  leave  of  me  before  that  hour  ;  for  your 
solicitude  can  do  me  no  good,  and  you  may  wear  out  all 
your  precious  young  teeth  in  gnawing  upon  this  accursed 
old  trap,  and  not  rid  me  of  a  single  fetter.  I,  at  least, 
am  a  gone  fox  ;  beware  of  the  medical  dogs,  for  they  will 
scent  you  by  the  morning  light.  If  they  find  you  here, 
you  are  gone  goslings. 

Those  non-professional  bipeds  who  have  watched  the 
sagacity  of  our  genus,  and  observed  our  hatred  to  each 
other,  and  our  attachment  to  the  public  geese  and  chick- 
ens, must  have  observed  the  sneers  of  the  miserable  snobs 
who  have  nothing  but  their  wealth  to  give  them  import- 
ance. There  is  our  friendly  and  amusing  little  forest 
associate,  the  coon,  who  may  fairly  be  called  the  repre- 
sentative of  that  excellent  body,  the  clergy.     I  have  heard 


138  AN  OLD   MEDICAL  FOX. 

with  indignation  the  insulting  remark,  as  he  goes  hum- 
bly along  the  forest,  sagaciously  smelling  the  earth  for 
his  food,  which  some  vile  sinners  have  compared  to  a 
cunning  ability  to  discover  and  flatter  the  secret  foibles 
of  his  rich  parishioners,  "  There  goes  that  little  black 
devil,  smelling  for  his  fodder  ;  it  is  to  be  hoped  he  will 
find  some."  What  an  insulting  remark  for  a  Christian  to 
make  on  an  individual  exercising  a  beneficent  gift  of 
nature !  Many  of  you,  my  dear  children,  will  be  obliged 
to  get  your  living  by  this  kind  of  earthly  sagacity  ;  that 
interesting  and  innocent  quadruped,  the  Norway  rat,  is 
by  no  means  to  be  despised  for  his  abilities  in  securing 
his  share  of  the  comforts. 

My  object  in  enumerating  these  useful  examples,  is  to 
make  you  thankful  to  Heaven  for  every  accomplishment. 
Our  senses  are  given  us  for  self-preservation,  and  it  be- 
hooves us  to  keep  them  sharpened  by  continued  use  ; 
laziness  is  a  vice  I  have  always  detested.  You  can  see 
for  yourselves  that  Providence  has  been  bountiful  in  giv- 
ing me  such  ample  accommodations  for  the  olfactory 
nerve,  that  I  can  scent  the  game  afar  off ;  the  length  of 
my  legs  and  arms,  too,  enabled  me  to  secure  many  a  good 
morsel,  which  others  were  obliged  to  content  themselves 
with  viewing  in  the  distance ;  would  to  God  they  had 
availed  me  in  avoiding  this  infernal  trap !  But  regrets 
are  useless  ;  I  must  hasten  to  give  you  my  last  advice. 

You  know,  of  course,  that  I,  like  all  of  you,  have 
been  held  in  captivity  before  ;  I  mean  during  my  collegi- 
ate life  ;  but  those  were  silken  chains,  compared  to  these, 
that  have  been  forged  by  my  plotting  brethren.  Had  I 
gone  on  quietly,  like  the  modest  coon  and  the  sagacious 
Norway  rat,  who  always  begins  to  gnaw  in  the  dark,  at 
the  bottom  of  the  bin,  I  should  have  enjoyed  great  com- 
fort.    It  is  true,  I  have  plenty  of  food,  but  I  am  nearly 


AN  OLD  MEDICAL  FOX.  139 

toothless  ;  and  my  eyes  fail  me  so  that  I  find  it  hard  to 
watch  the  machinations  of  the  cunning  old  professional 
foxes  of  the  hospitals  and  the  colleges,  who,  like  the  scor- 
pion, always  sting  in  the  dark. 

There  is  a  miserable  creature,  of  the  species  medical 
wolf,  who  prowls  about  the  forest,  and  publishes  a  jour- 
nal called  the  Scalpel,  in  which  he  endeavors  to  make 
light  of  your  attainments,  and  to  cheapen  your  efforts 
for  the  public  welfare.  Notwithstanding  my  aversion  to 
him  and  his  abominable  journal,  because  of  his  hostility 
to  you,  when  I  think  of  my  fetters,  I  sometimes  have 
looked  upon  it  almost  with  affection  and  admiration  at 
the  sagacity  of  its  editor,  for  he  seems  to  understand  the 
ropes  by  which  those  infernal  old  imps,  the  professors 
and  hospital  surgeons,  have  got  so  many  of  us  poor  devils 
into  their  toils.  I  hate  these  wretches,  because  they  do 
not  acknowledge  the  righteousness  of  the  old  adage, 
"  Dog  shouldn't  eat  dog."  Alas !  my  dear  children,  they 
will  one  day,  I  fear,  crack  your  own  tender  little  bones. 
They  are  only  waiting  fof  you  to  get  a  little  fatter. 
Meanwhile,  they  use  you  solely  as  decoy-ducks. 

Last  year,  when  they  decoyed  so  many  of  you  to  their 
great  trap,  which  they  impudently  call  the  "American 
Medical  Association,"  and  set  it  up  at  St.  Louis  by  way 
of  getting  the  good  opinion  of  the  Southern  and  Western 
brethren,  they  very  well  knew,  the  accursed  imps,  that  it 
would  not  be  in  your  power,  in  your  hungry  condition, 
to  resist  the  hospitable  provisions  of  your  warm-hearted 
brethren,  which  I  see  you  even  yet  remember  with  tears 
of  gratitude  ;  and  when  that  Gross-ly  hypocritical  old 
coon  made  such  an  outcry,  because  some  of  you  warmed 
your  hearts  with  a  generous  glass,  and  got  slightly  un- 
steady in  your  dear  little  legs,  he  only  did  it  to  get  a 
white  foot  with  the  hypocrites.     Let  him  look  into  his 


140  AN  OLD  MEDICAL  FOX. 

big  book,  a  mere  surgical  hash,  and  account  to  Dixon  for 
the  ideas  he  has  stolen  from  his  and  other  folks'  volumes, 
and  acknowledge  his  thin-blooded,  beggarly  stealings  of 
instruments  and  ideas.  He  ought  to  be  dispatched  on  a 
medical  mission  to  Borriooboolagah.  There  used  to  be 
honor  even  among  thieves,  but  it  seems  to  be  no  longer 
bo.    But  I  must  get  on. 

I  was  first  caught,  when  young,  in  that  old,  rusty  trap, 
that  used  to  be  set  for  so  many  years  in  Barclay  Street  ; 
it  was  managed  by  six  old  medical  and  surgical  foxes, 
and  used  to  be  a  pretty  well  conducted  affair.  They  sel- 
dom graduated  a  shoemaker  or  a  waiter  ;  but  when  old 
Hosack,  and  Mott,  and  Francis,  Macneven,  and  Griscom 
set  up  the  other  in  Duane  Street,  they  commenced  run- 
ning a  muck  against  each  other,  and  the  country  was 
filled  with  half-fledged  medical  goslings.  They  used  to 
have  some  affection  for  me  when  I  had  my  pin-feathers 
only  ;  but  as  soon  as  I  began  to  show  my  bill  at  the  pub- 
lic feeding-ground,  many  a  slap  did  I  get  from  the  old 
rogues,  sometimes  before  my  patient,  but  oftener  in  the 
dark.  I  stuck  it  out  till  I  got  nearly  starved,  and  my 
coat  looked  as  though  it  had  been  between  the  jaws  of  a 
hungry  wolf,  till  one  day,  it  all  at  once  occurred  to  me 
that  I  had  been  a  great  ass.  I  had  all  along  had  a  no- 
tion that  the  "Code  of  Ethics,"  my  benevolent  seniors 
had  prepared  for  my  guidance  when  they  let  me  go  out 
of  their  trap,  was  a  one-sided  sort  of  affair.  In  it,  I  was 
instructed  to  stick  close  in  my  hole,  and  only  to  look  out 
with  great  reverence  when  any  of  the  old  foxes  passed 
by  ;  meanwhile,  they  never  looked  in  to  see  if  I  had  any- 
thing to  eat.  I  used  to  hear  a  most  attractive  screaming 
in  the  neighboring  poultry-yards  every  night,  but  was 
obliged  to  content  myself  with  licking  my  chaps  till 
morning,  when  the  cunning  old  fellows  had  hied  to  their 


AN  OLD  MEDICAL  FOX.  141 

holes ;  then  I  would  crawl  out,  and  pick  up  a  patient  in 
the  shape  of  a  servant-maid  or  an  Irishman.  These  were 
poor  picking,  however,  for  a  cub  who  had  been  used  to 
good  feeding,  and  I  was  nearly  in  despair. 

One  day,  however,  I  was  summoned  to  visit  a  rich  old 
turkey  of  a  cit,  who  lived  near  my  hole,  in  Bleecker 
Street,  and  who  was  suffering  with  a  "  foie  gras,"  the  re- 
sult of  high  feeding.  I  licked  my  chaps  in  anticipation 
of  a  glorious  fee  ;  and,  after  smoothing  my  old  coat,  and 
making  myself  look  as  innocent  as  possible,  I  presented 
myself  at  my  neighbor's  elegant  mansion.  I  was  forth- 
with walked  up  stairs  to  the  old  turkey's  roost,  when  he 
coolly  informed  me  that  he  had  only  sent  for  me  to  give  my 
opinion,  as  one  of  the  old  foxes  was  his  family  physician, 
and  he  had  every  confidence  in  him  till  day  before  yes- 
terday, when  he  positively  forbade  his  eating  turtle  soup ! 
As  he  had  never  forbidden  him  anything  before,  and 
always  bled  and  purged  him  every  fortnight,  for  his 
headache,  with  the  best  results,  he  naturally  concluded 
something  was  wrong,  and  the  doctor  was  getting  crazy 
with  some  new-fangled  notion  or  other.  My  new-fledged 
hopes  were  dashed  at  once  to  the  earth.  Here  was  an 
admirable  chance  for  a  capital  bill ;  bleeding  and  a  pre- 
scription, xx.  and  xx.  jalap  and  calomel  every  fortnight, 
and  the  extra  visits  for  all  the  uncomfortable  gripings,  et 
cetera !  What  could  I,  what  ought  I  to  do,  with  such  a  fat 
turkey  before  my  very  jaws,  and  the  old  goose  of  a  pro- 
fessor having  absolutely  frightened  him  into  a  doubt  of 
his  abilities?  (and  with  what  reason?)  Was  it  in  the 
nature  of  a  medical  cub  to  resist  ?  Yet  the  "  Code  of 
Ethics"  forbade  me  opening  my  jaws  to  nab  my  fat 
friend.  How  wisely  have  they  ordained  it,  (for  them- 
selves,) that  we  shall  not  open  our  lips  to  contradict  any 
of  their  absurdities,  unless  they  are  present.    My  hunger 


142  AN   OLD  MECUCAL  FOX. 

made  me  desperate  ;  I  determined  to  strike  for  freedom 
and  turtle  soup.     I  not  only  told  him  his  attendant  was 
mistaken,  but  that  a  strong  natural  want  was  instinctive 
demand,  and  must  be  obeyed  ;  turtle  soup,  I  continued, 
was  admirably  adapted  to  his  constitution,  and  he  should 
have  it  immediately.     I  felt  his  pulse,  and  passing  my 
fingers  over  the  bend  of  the  arm,  I  remarked  that  he  had 
been  repeatedly  bled,  no  doubt  with  excellent  effect,  but 
in  fearful  proximity  to  the  artery,  drawing  in  my  breath, 
at  the  same  time,  convulsively,  as  I  had  observed  my  pre- 
ceptor to  do,  when  strongly  interested  in  a  rich  patient 
narrating  his  case,  and  disapproving  of  his  predecessor's 
prescriptions.    My  ruse  took  beautifully.     The  old  cock 
was    so    thoroughly  frightened,  that    the    very  wattle 
around  his  beak,  though  dyed  with  the  best  of  oporto, 
turned  pale,  and  I  thought  he  would  have  fallen  from 
his  perch.     I   seized  a  bottle  from  which  he  had  been 
imbibing,  and  let  him  have  half  a  tumbler,  good  ;  while 
he  was  in  the  swoon,  I  took  as  much  myself,  and,  as  soon 
as  he  recovered,  I  smoothed  him  down  beautifully.     I 
told  him  to  tell  the  old  fellow  that  attended  him,  he  was 
a  fool,  and  would  kill  him  outright  if  he  deprived  him  of 
his  soup  ;  that  he  was  nearly  blind,  and  couldn't  bleed 
him  with  safety.     Then  I  fired  my  twelve-inch  mortar, 
to  clench  him  ;  I  told  him  that  arterial  varix  (!)  had  been 
the  frequent  consequence  of  such  ignorant  butchery.     In 
short,  I  spoke  with  such  pathos  and  feeling,  that,  what 
with  that  and  the  port,  and  the  fear  that  he  would  not 
send  for  me  again,  the  tears  came  into  my  eyes,  when  I 
shook  hands  with  him  as  I  was  about  to  take  leave.     I 
felt,  in  my  very  soul,  I  had  done  perfectly  right.     I  always 
believed  my  preceptors  to  be  great  rascals,  and  I  never 
could  discover  why  a  young  fox  shouldn't  eat  turkey  as 
well  as  an  old  one.     I  am  sure  I  never  could  tell  why  a 


AN  OLD  MEDICAL  FOX.  143 

poor  devil  of  a  patient  should  be  deprived  of  two  inde- 
pendent and  separate  opinions  respecting  his  precious 
carcass,  as  well  as  two  legal  ones  about  the  title  of  an 
estate  ;  indeed,  I  think  he  is  much  more  likely  to  require 
them,  as  doctors  are  an  accommodating  set,  and  will  give 
them  pretty  much  what  they  seem  to  desire,  and  so  they 
get  confused  when  they  come  to  think  it  over. 

My  patient  assured  me  he  would  keep  my  visit  a  pro- 
found secret ;  but  I  told  him  "  I  didn't  care  a  farthing  ; 
he  might  tell  the  old  ass  as  soon  as  he  pleased,  and  I 
would  like  to  be  there  to  hear  him  bray.  It  was  natural 
I  should  feel  distressed  and  indignant  to  see  the  life  of 
so  valuable  and  intellectual  a  citizen  thus  trifled  with." 

Thus  early  did  I  commence  my  bold  and  independent 
career.  Had  I  continued  to  follow  my  better  judgment, 
I  might  have  reached  a  happy  and  an  honorable  old  age, 
and  been  spared  this  degrading  condition,  and  those 
tears  of  anguish  which  it  racks  my  heart  to  see  on  your 
youthful  cheeks. 

But  I  am  faint,  and  it  is  yet  an  hour  before  morning  ; 
run,  two  of  you,  my  dear  children,  to  the  Fifth  Avenue 
or  Union  Park  poultry-yards,  and  fetch  me  a  chicken  or 
a  young  gosling,  and  I  will  refresh  my  old  stomach  for 
the  last  time,  and  then  continue  my  narrative  of  the 
manner  in  which  the  cunning  old  vermin  got  me  into 
this  infernal  trap.  Do  not  be  rash,  my  dears  ;  one  of 
you  can  watch,  while  the  other  waits  at  the  door  of  the 
coop.  The  chickens  and  goslings  stray  out  o'  nights, 
and  the  old  hens  and  ganders  are  not  very  sharp  ;  you 
needn't  be  afraid  of  the  dogs,  for  they  keep  none  but 
poodles  in  those  fashionable  places. 
7 


ABORTIONIST. 


To  know  a  subject  thoroughly,  perhaps,  is  not  per- 
mitted unto  erring,  sinful  mortals.  To  treat  a  subject 
thoroughly,  perhaps,  has  not  been  granted  unto  man, 
except  by  inspiration.  Then,  he  himself  has  been  uncon- 
scious of  the  power  which  he  possessed,  and  had  to  work 
his  knowledge  out,  in  detail,  like  another  man,  and  leave 
abundance  of  positions  to  be  wrought  out  by  after 
generations.  The  subject  which  we  treat  may  not  be 
agreeable,  but  there  are  fields  of  observation  and 
investigation,  which  we  think  we  have  explored,  that 
others  scarce  have  seen.  We  believe  it  our  duty  to  do 
all  we  can  to  check  the  horrible  evil. 

"We  have  denned  abortionism  to  be,  "  the  knowledge 
and  the  practice  of  expelling  from  the  womb,  the  ovum, 
or  the  foetus,  ere  it  is  matured."  What  an  employment 
for  a  human  being!  The  plunderer  of  a  temple,  or  a 
church,  is  justly  execrated  for  his  sacrilege,  the  act  of 
stealing  sacred  things  1  Was  ever  any  temple,  any 
church,  more  sacred  than  the  secluded  sanctuary,  where 
an  immortal  being  is  preserved  and  nourished?  The 
Paradise  of  God  is  sacred  beyond  any  other  spot  of  this 
all-hallowed  universe,  because  it  is  the  dwelling-place 
and  throne  of  God !  The  womb  of  woman  is  the  holy 
shrine,  where  God,  in  all  his  wisdom  and  his  love,  creates 
another  image  of  himself,  fitted  to  live  with  him,  in  his 
own  Paradise,  in  blessedness  and  glory ! 


ABORTIONISM  145 

Who  dares  to  enter  that  august  and  lofty  pile,  solemnly 
dedicated  to  the  service  of  the  High  and  Holy  One,  and 
ruthlessly  destroy  the  symbols  and  the  elements  of  wor- 
ship ?  None  but  the  burglar  infidel — the  atheist  thief  I 
Who  dares  invade  the  shrine  of  glory,  where,  in  his  re- 
splendent blessedness,  the  Hierarch  of  the  Universe  of 
Being  dwells — to  plunder  and  destroy  ?  The  arch-fiend 
Satan,  only,  dared  attempt  the  deed ;  and  he,  for  the 
black  act,  was  doomed  to  dwell  in  everlasting  fire  and 
chains  of  darkness !  Who  is  it  forces  the  sealed  doors  of 
the  enshrined  and  dedicated  sanctuary  of  the  womb,  and 
ravages  and  tears  from  thence  the  sacred  image  of 
Divinity?  The  fell  abortionist — who  in  his  charac- 
ter combines  the  sacrilegious  burglar  and  arch-fiend  of 
hell! 

Can  man,  rejoicing  in  the  vivid  imageries  of  the  beau- 
ties and  delights  of  progeny,  endowed  with  the  creative 
power,  and  worshipping  himself  in  the  mysterious  shrine 
where  he  was  wonderously  developed — can  man,  with 
fraud  and  force,  enter  the  temple  of  creation,  and  with 
fiend-like  savageness  destroy  the  image  of  himself — tear 
down  his  throne,  dilapidate  and  desecrate  his  temple, 
and  overthrow  his  dynasty  ?  Can  man  do  this?  Can  he 
who  has  been  dignified  with  the  exalted  power  of  eman- 
ating an  immortal  being,  and  depositing  the  trust  in  the 
rich  temple  of  formation ;  will  he  leap  off  from  the 
Creator's  throne  where  all  is  light  and  joy,  and  plunge 
into  the  abyss  of  the  destroyer,  where  all  is  darkness, 
degradation,  and  damnation?  Yes,  man,  degraded, 
fallen,  lost  to  all  his  glory — may  do  this !     Can  woman  ? 

She  is  by  nature  a  producer,  former,  educator  of  her 
race.  She  is  instinct  with  the  desire  of  offspring,  which 
nothing  else  can  satisfy.  Her  soul  is  silently,  but  cease- 
lessly on  fire,  with  love  of  progeny.     The  perils  that 


116  ABORTIONISM. 

attend  on  pregnancy  and  parturition  sometimes  occupy 
her  thoughts  ;  the  joys  of  offspring,  always. 

"  Man's  love  is  of  man's  life  a  part, 
'Tia  woman's  sole  existence." 

Her  form,  her  make,  her  organization,  her  thoughts 
and  feelings,  are  expressly  constituted,  all  for  offspring. 
The  eye  is  not  more  evidently  formed  for  seeing,  the 
hand  for  holding,  and  the  feet  for  walking,  than  is  a  wo- 
man formed  for  offspring. 

Conceive  the  penalty  inflicted  on  the  eye,  when  sub- 
jected to  the  privation  of  all  objects  for  its  vision,  while 
basking  in  the  blaze  of  unreflected  light !  Consider  what 
unmitigated  misery  is  the  lot  of  those  who  find  no  occu- 
pation for  their  hands,  especially  if  their  developments 
of  combativeness  and  constructiveness  be  full !  "What 
can  be  more  annoying  than  to  be  debarred  the  exercise 
of  walking,  when  the  feet  and  legs,  which  are  a  large 
part  of  our  body,  have  no  other  use — no  other  pleasure ! 

One  of  the  most  refined  and  subtle  tortures  of  our  be- 
ing, is  that  of  taking  from  us  every  sort  of  occupation 
and  employment.  Nothing  so  certainly  produces  mad- 
ness, as  silence,  solitude,  and  inactivity.  The  organs 
that  were  wont  to  exercise  their  functions,  being  now  for- 
bidden them,  the  blood  that  circulates  within  them 
stimulates  to  action,  and  like  the  steam  pent  up  within 
an  engine,  must  be  employed  and  suffered  to  escape,  or 
the  whole  force  will  be  expended  on  the  organs  and 
machinery. 

The  instinct,  the  inwrought  desire  of  woman,  is  for 
offspring.  She  is  constructed  outwardly  for  this  very 
purpose.  Her  abdomen  and  hips  are  large  for  the  re- 
ception and  gestation  of  her  offspring  ;  her  lap  is  ample 
for  its  couch  and  resting-place  ;  her  bosom  fitted  for  its 


ABOETIONISM.  147 

nouriture  and  fondling  ;  her  limbs  and  person  soft  and 
flexible,  to  make  a  gentle,  yielding,  easily  compressible 
nurse  and  playmate.  Her  bands  are  delicate,  and  ex- 
quisitely formed  for  gently  bandling  tender  beings.  Her 
feet  are  small,  ber  logs  constructed  to  take  tiny  steps,  so 
suitable  and  requisite  for  tbose  wbo  bave  tbe  office  of 
accompanying  infant  locomotion. 

One  tbing  is  most  remarkable,  and  yet  it  seems  to  bave 
escaped  the  observation  of  philosophers  and  physiolo- 
gists. The  beauty  of  the  woman,  both  in  form  and  feature, 
seems  to  have  no  adequate  use,  unless  it  is  a  constant 
object  of  attention  to  her  worshipping  offspring.  Then, 
the  true  use  of  woman's  beauty  is  encircled  with  a  glory, 
which  its  delight  for  man  alone  would  never  give. 
"When  we  consider  woman's  beauty,  like  the  star  of 
Heaven,  or  flowers  of  earth,  an  object  of  unfailing,  never 
wearying  joy  to  children,  our  estimation  of  its  worth, 
and  its  Divine  Bestower's  goodness,  are  raised  beyond 
the  highest  and  most  pure  conception  of  mere  woman 
worship.  "Where  beauty  terminates  as  it  originates,  in 
goodness,  'tis  divine. 

The  bosom,  face,  and  hair  of  woman,  are  so  much  more 
soft  and  winning  than  they  are  in  man,  that  children  are 
instinctively  induced  to  seek  their  comfort  and  enjoyment 
in  their  presence.  The  power  to  please  is  always  grate- 
ful, and  nothing  can  afford  a  human  being,  purer,  richer, 
more  refined,  and  satisfactory  enjoyment,  than  the  power 
of  making  children  happy.  Possession  of  a  faculty  or 
power,  implies,  of  course,  delight  in  exercise,  and  the 
existence  of  the  objects  requisite  to  its  enjoyment.  The 
highest  faculty  with  which  we  are  endowed,  is  that  of 
being  able  to  produce,  or  to  create,  the  objects  necessary 
to  our  happiness.  Here  we  are  on  an  elevation,  like  to 
that  of  God.     Such  is  the  privilege  of  woman.     Most 


148  ABORTIONISM. 

amply  and  indubitably  stamped  upon  her,  though  we 
have  but  cursorily  viewed  her,  in  exterior  endow- 
ments. 

Interiorly,  he  would  be  a  dolt  in  knowledge,  and  an 
infidel  in  science,  who  did  not  see  that  every  develop- 
ment of  her  mysterious  organization  is  for  producing  and 
sustaining  offspring.  What  is  the  womb?  A  pear- 
shaped  organ,  with  a  cavity  which  opens  to  receive  the 
embryotic  seed  of  a  new  being,  and  then  instinctively 
closes  and  seals  itself  up,  in  order  that  it  may  incorpor- 
ate the  germ  with  a  miraculous  ovum,  and  nourish  and 
develop  it  into  a  foetus.  "What  are  the  ovaries  or  egg- 
beds,  but  two  organs,  which  supply,  and  periodically 
send  off,  the  ova  or  the  eggs,  which  steadily  and  surely 
seek  for  impregnation  ?  The  satisfaction  of  the  womb  is 
in  receiving  and  retaining.  To  lose,  is  just  as  miserable 
for  the  womb,  as  for  the  hand  or  head.  It  is  as  impossi- 
ble for  loss  to  be  converted  into  gain,  as  for  miscarriage 
to  be  turned  to  happiness  for  woman ! 

The  blank  unsatisfiedness  of  the  barren  womb  has 
been  proverbial  in  every  age.  From  the  days  of  Rachel, 
who  exclaimed  with  exquisite  pathetic  longing,  "Give 
me  children  or  I  die,"  to  the  time  of  Solomon,  who,  in 
his  universal  observation  of  mankind,  has  recorded  his 
intense  desire,  which  says,  "  Give,  give,"  and  never  can 
be  satisfied,  the  constant  testimony  of  the  Scriptures  is 
to  the  happiness  of  offspring,  and  to  the  wretchedness  of 
sterility  and  miscarriage.  Nor  is  there  any  change 'in 
the  preceding  or  succeeding  parts  of  Scripture.  There 
is  but  once  a  woe  denounced  on  offspring,  and  a  blessed- 
ness pronounced  on  barrenness,  and  that  was  by  the 
Saviour,  in  his  beautiful  lament  for  doomed  and  desolated 
Judah  and  Jerusalem.  Pity  and  love  to  miserable  wo- 
man, reversed  the  blessing  and  the  curse  for  once — but 


ABOETIONISM.  149 

not  reversed  her  nature.  The  sun  is  not  more  native  to 
produce,  than  is  the  womb  of  woman. 

The  function  of  the  womb,  untended  or  perverted,  is 
as  annoying  to  a  woman,  as  is  a  faculty  of  the  mind, 
when  left  uncultivated.  It  cannot  be  completely  dor- 
mant. It  necessarily  influences  all  the  other  faculties 
and  functions  of  the  woman.  The  faculties  of  observa- 
tion and  constructiveness,  if  not  attended  to,  may  be 
unnoticed  and  overlooked,  because  they  are  not  normally 
in  action  ;  yet  will  they  manifest  themselves  irregularly, 
by  the  prying,  meddling  disposition  of  the  person  who 
possesses  them  in  their  abnormal  state.  The  function  of 
the  womb  affects  the  woman  in  the  same  manner.  If  it 
be  rightly  tended,  whether  in  active  or  in  passive  state, 
the  character  is  softened,  elevated,  and  refined.  If  it  be 
rudely  treated,  neglected,  or  perverted,  it  gives  a  rough- 
ness, coarseness,  and  ferocity  to  woman,  almost  unsexing 
her. 

The  largeness  of  the  hips  and  abdomen  in  woman, 
imply  a  prearranged  capacity  for  bearing  children  ;  and 
the  well-known  pleasure  which  a  woman  feels,  when  con- 
scious of  her  pregnancy,  that  it  adds  unto  her  interest 
and  beauty,  are  large  additions  to  our  argument,  that 
love  of  offspring  is  not  only  natural,  but  a  strong  neces- 
sity of  her  being. 

Perhaps  the  strongest  portion  of  the  argument  remains 
to  be  adduced.  The  function  of  the  breasts.  The  beauty 
of  these  parts  of  woman's  structure,  we  have  already 
briefly  treated — too  briefly,  even,  for  our  purpose.  Their 
function  is  a  wonderous  one,  and  if  there  were  no  other 
basis  upon  which  to  build  our  argument,  this  single  func- 
tion would  be  quite  sufficient  for  our  purpose.  Give  us 
the  breasts,  with  their  rich  function  of  lactation,  and  we 
have  all  the  previous  functions  and  performances  required 


150  ABORTIONISM. 

for  offspring,  inevitably  guaranteed  by  all  the  laws  of 
nature  and  of  Providence.  Prominent  and  commanding 
must  be  the  desire,  the  love  of  offspring.  The  love  of 
life,  the  appetite  for  food,  the  keen  enjoyment  of  the 
senses,  cannot  surpass  the  keenness  of  desire  for,  nor  the 
strength  of  love  to  offspring. 

But  we  ascend  to  higher  laws  than  physical — the  men- 
tal and  the  moral  laws,  the  higher  part  of  which  we 
designate  as  spiritual.  To  every  organization  there  is  an 
adaptation  of  the  mental  and  the  spiritual  nature.  Per- 
haps the  real  mode  of  stating  this  position  is,  that  to 
each  human  being,  there  is  an  adaptation  of  particular 
and  peculiar  organization,  exactly  suited  to,  and  requisite 
for,  the  mental  and  the  moral  qualities  of  which  it  is  the 
willing  minister. 

A  woman  has  a  mental  taste  and  spiritual  feeling  for 
the  value  and  delight  of  offspring.  The  only  mode  by 
which  she  can  make  known  her  thoughts  and  feelings  is 
by  her  organs.  They  are  compelled  to  manifest  the  deep 
intentions,  and  the  deeper  sympathies  of  her  nature.  If, 
therefore,  it  be  granted  that  a  woman  has  a  mental  and 
a  spiritual  nature,  and  that  her  organs  are  but  the  instru- 
ments of  thought  and  feeling,  there  is  no  possible  escape 
from  the  conclusion,  that  the  desire  of  offspring  is  an  in- 
tegral and  most  essential  part  of  her  existence  ;  and  that 
to  reduce  her  to  a  vegetable  nature  merely,  could  not 
more  palpably  change  and  pervert  her  essence,  than  to 
reduce  her  to  an  offspring-hating  creature. 

We  have  already  drawn  a  little  on  our  second,  and  our 
higher  source  of  matter  for  our  essay,  the  sacred  Scrip- 
tures— but  we  have  not  left  the  field  of  nature  yet.  The 
dramatist  of  man,  the  ever  fertile  and  exhaustless  Bard 
of  Avon,  is  with  us,  a  part  of  our  universal  nature.  An 
axiom  of  his  is,  in  our  estimation,  safe  for  our  guidance 


ABORTIONISM.  151 

to  the  truth,  as  is  the  river's  course  unto  the  sea — firm  as 
a  basis,  for  the  building  up  the  temple  of  Philosophy,  as 
are  the  rocky  defiles  of  the  river's  becL  The  most  pro- 
found Baconian  induction  has  not,  with  us,  more 
weight  than  the  intuitions  of  the  prince  of  philosophic 
poets. 

A  few  quotations  may  be  therefore  made,  confirmatory 
of  our  theory,  with  good,  and  certainly,  agreeable  effect. 
The  character  of  Rosalind,  in  "  As  You  Like  It,"  is  one 
of  Shakspeare's  highest  feminine  creations.  She  is  a 
tall  and  graceful  nervo-sanguine  beauty,  vivid  in  her 
imagination,  abundant  in  the  flashes  of  keen,  caustic,  but 
unwounding  wit,  sunny  as  summer  in  her  exquisite 
affections,  and  every  thought  and  feeling  deeply  dyed 
with  womanhood  ;  but  beautifully,  innocently,  yet  not 
ignorantly  chaste  and  pure.  The  function  of  her  womb 
diffuses  over  her  a  rich  and  fascinating  mellow  moral 
feeling,  which  charms  and  chains  admiring  and  trans- 
ported man,  and  lights  up  woman's  fancy,  brilliantly  and 
elegantly,  displaying  it  in  all  the  glory  of  a  tropical  pro- 
fusion. 

After  the  wrestling  scene,  when  Orlando  had  excited 
in  her  heart,  for  the  first  time,  the  elegant,  subduing 
passion  of  pure  love,  she  sighs  her  feelings  forth  to 
her  well-trusted  sympathizing  cousin,  Celia.  Rosalind's 
father  being  now  in  banishment,  Celia,  with  admirable 
woman's  tact,  asks  if  all  this  is  for  her  father  ;  and  eli- 
cits the  reply  which  we  italicize  in  our  quotation.  We 
give  that  portion  of  the  scene,  where  it  occurs  : 

"Cel.  Why,  cousin;  why,  Kosalind;  Cupid  have  mercy!  Not  a 
word? 

Eos.  Not  one  to  throw  at  a  dog. 

Cel.  No,  thy  words  are  too  precious  to  be  cast  away  upon  curs, 
throw  some  of  them  at  me  ;  come,  lame  me  with  reasons. 
7* 


152  ABORTIONISM. 

Eos.  Then  there  were  two  cousins  laid  up  ;  when  the  one  should 
be  lamed  with  reasons,  and  the  other  mad  without  any. 
Cel.  But  is  all  this  for  your  father? 
Eos.  No,  some  of  it  for  my  child's  father  /" 

Nothing  could  be  more  natural,  more  elegant,  and  ex- 
quisitely feminine.  She  traces  love  to  its  appropriate 
and  desired  results,  with  one  of  those  fine  replies,  which 
woman  only  has  the  power  to  give.  She  speaks  the 
thought  and  feeling  of  her  heart — love  and  fruition. 

In  the  Merchant  of  Venice,  where  Bassanio  has  chosen 
the  right  casket,  and  the  majestical  but  exquisitely  sim- 
ple Portia  dedicates  herself  and  fortune  to  him,  in 
language  which,  for  gentleness  and  tenderness  of  senti- 
ment, and  elegance  of  expression,  has  no  parallel — 
Gratiano  and  Nerissa  confess  their  love,  and  the  two 
charmed  pairs,  betrothed,  are  now  proceeding  to  their 
marriage.  The  merry  soul  of  Gratiano,  in  the  presence 
of  the  queenly  Portia,  and  her  accomplished  maid,  Ne- 
rissa, fired  with  the  joys  of  expectation,  speaks,  what  he 
knows  will  touch  the  golden  chord  of  feeling  in  the 
bosom  of  them  both.  Beholding  his  fair  charmer,  he 
exclaims,  "  We'll  play  with  them :  the  first  boy,  for  a  thou- 
sand ducats." 

Perhaps  there  is  no  higher  aspiration  of  a  wife,  than 
that  her  first  born  may  be  a  cherub  boy.  The  feeling  of 
delight  which  thrills  the  soul  of  woman,  when  she  con- 
templates, with  reasonable  expectation,  that  she  will 
bring  forth  a  beauteous  image  of  the  being  whom  she 
loves,  surpasses  all  the  loftiest  emotions  of  her  love  to 
man.  Creation  is  her  glory — offspring  is  the  perfection 
of  her  function. 

Although  it  would  be  easy  to  complete  our  paper 
with  citations  from  this  noblest  of  the  philosophic  poets, 
we   must  content  ourselves  with   only  one   more   well- 


ABORTTONISM.  153 

selected  case,  which  shall  be  taken  from  the  picture  of 
that  paragon  of  virtue  and  true  beauty  of  the  soul,  as 
wife  and  mother,  Catharine,  queen  of  Henry  the  Eighth. 
In  that  majestical  and  marvelously  moving  pleading, 
which  she  makes  before  the  king,  presiding  over  the 
court,  assembled  for  the  purpose  of  divorcing  her — a 
pleading  which,  for  shape,  and  course,  and  argument, 
and  pathetic  power,  a  hundred  cardinals  and  proctors 
might  in  vain  essay  to  compass — she  has  this  exquisitely 
apposite,  most  delicate,  and  charming  passage  : 

"  Sir,  call  to  mind, 
That  I  have  been  your  icife,  in  this  obedience  ? 
Upward  of  twenty  years,  and  have  been  blest 
With  many  children  by  you." 

The  richness  of  this  most  felicitous  passage  may  not 
be  apparent  to  the  mind  of  every  one.  It  will  repay  us 
for  our  trouble  of  displaying  it,  and  none  will  be  more 
pleased  to  have  it  clearly  shown,  than  those  who  now 
perceive  it.  She  first  appeals  to  his  known,  strong  pro- 
pensity for  the  married  life,  reminding  him  that,  in  the 
quality  of  wife,  she  had  supplied  his  wants,  obedient  to 
his  will,  for  twenty  years.  Had  she  staid  here,  he  might 
have  felt  the  pain  of  obligation,  a  feeling  most  inimical 
to  her  present  cause.  She  wisely,  beautifully,  puts  the 
sense  of  obligation  on  herself.  "  /  have  been  blest  -with 
many  children  by  you." 

The  poet  shows  his  master  knowledge  of  the  human 
mind,  by  this  acute  perception  of  the  feelings  of  a  pure, 
high-minded,  virtuous  wife  ;  lofty  in  honor,  yet  a  saint 
in  meekness  and  humility.  Had  the  king  only,  been  the 
court  to  which  she  had  appealed,  she  would  have  gained 
her  suit — for  when  she  left,  he  straight  pronounced  her 
eulogy,  as  fondly  as  a  lover,  dwelling  on  her  enchaining 
qualities  as  a  wife.     A  commoner  poet  would  have  made 


154  AI30RTI0NISM. 

the  queen  bring  in  the  king  a  debtor  to  her,  for  his  chil- 
dren. A  commoner  woman  than  Queen  Catharine  would 
inevitably  have  so  done,  and  most  assuredly  have  missed 
her  mark. 

The  best  of  poets  and  of  moralists  would  all  be  found 
to  coincide  with  the  delineations  of  true  woman's  charac- 
ter, as  drawn  by  Shakspeare  ;  but  as  we  are  compelled, 
by  the  restraint  of  space,  to  limit  our  citations  of  author- 
ity, we  only  venture  on  another,  ere  we  come  to  sacred 
writ.  That  one  is  Milton.  Of  all  men,  not  included  in 
the  Scripture  category  of  "  inspired,"  Milton  appears  the 
loftiest,  the  purest,  and  the  most  sublime  of  mortals. 
He  was  the  most  profound  of  scholars — a  master  of  the 
sciences  of  mind  and  morals — most  thorough  in  his 
knowledge  of  mankind — a  mighty  statesman — a  most 
comprehensive  and  acute  philosopher — and  one  of  the 
most  sage  and  grave  of  theologians.  How  does  he  draw 
the  character  of  woman  ? 

In  that  divine  relation,  which  he  put  into  the  mouth 
of  Eve,  recounting  to  her  consort,  Adam,  her  waking  up 
to  consciousnss  of  life  and  being,  she  tells  him  that  she 
heard  a  voice,  which  said  : 

"  But  follow  me, 
And  I  will  lead  thee  where  no  shadow  stays 
Thy  coming,  and  thy  soft  embraces ;  he 
Whose  image  thou  art,  him  thou  shalt  enjoy. 
Inseparably  thine :  to  him  thou  thalt  bear 
Multitudes  like  thyself,  and  thence  be 
Called  mother  of  human  race." 

In  this  passage,  the  Deity  gives  her  the  promise  of 
enjoyment  of  her  husband,  and  a  multitude  of  offspring. 
This  promise,  uttered  in  the  ears  of  modern,  fashionably 
educated,  and  perverted  woman,  would  sound  more  like 
a  curse. 


ABOBTIONISM.  155 

Again,  in  that  celestial  adoration  which  the  first  pair 
offer  ere  they  go  to  rest,  they  say  : 

"  Happy  in  our  mutual  help 
And  mutual  love,  the  crown  of  all  our  bliss — 
For  t7iou  liast  promised  from  us  two,  a  race 
To  fill  the  earth." 

The  poet  himself,  in  speaking  on  this  subject,  says  : 

"Hail,  icedded  love,  mysterious  law,  true  source 
Of  human  offspring!    *    *    *    By  thee, 
Founded  in  reason,  loyal,  just,  and  pure, 
Relations  dear,  and  all  the  charities, 
Of  father,  son,  and  brother,  first  were  known, 
Perpetual  fountain  of  domestic  sweets." 

Once  more  dilating  on  this  subject,  he  exclaims  : 

"  Our  Maker  bids  increase— who  bids  abstain  ?" 

Thus  hare  we  laid  our  corner-stone,  on  which  to  build 
our  temple  to  the  woman's  love  of  offspring,  on  the  broad 
basis  of  the  rock  of  nature.  Anatomy  and  physiology, 
philosophy,  and  poetry,  are  all  replete  with  proofs  of  this 
great  truth.  As  long  as  woman  is  controlled  by  this 
most  sacred  law  of  her  mysterious  but  delightful  func- 
tions, she  is  safe,  both  morally  and  physically ;  for  she 
cannot  stoop  to  improprieties  and  vice,  as  long  as  she 
regards  the  function  of  her  womb  inseparably  linked 
with  reproduction.  The  love  of,  the  desire  for  offspring, 
is  the  preservative  of  woman's  virtue,  her  golden  shield 
of  honor. 

A  woman  thus  endowed  and  dignified,  can  never  stoop 
to  the  base  lusts  of  harlotry  or  fornication.  The  end  of 
commerce  with  the  other  sex  refines  and  regulates  it. 
As  wife  and  mother,  she  is  dignified  and  elevated  in  the 
icale  of  beings.  As  fornicatrix  or  as  harlot,  she  is  re- 
duced to  chattelage  and  thingdom  ;  an  article  of  com- 


156  ABORTIONISM. 

merce  or  of  pleasure,  available  for  others'  purposes  of 
pastime  or  of  -mischief,  but  of  no  value  to  herself  nor  any- 
one beyond.  Reduced  from  the  true  dignity  of  spiritual 
beings,  to  a  paltry  toy  amid  the  catalogue  of  things. 

We  shall  sustain  and  close  this  portion  of  our  subject 
with  an  appeal  to  the  decision  of  the  Scriptures.  Those 
who  regard  these  writings  as  divine — and  to  ourselves, 
this  view  of  them  is  as  self-evident  as  that  the  rays  of 
light  and  heat  come  from  the  sun — those  will  of  course 
be  pleased  with  confirmations  of  mundane  philosophy, 
drawn  from  the  highest  and  unerring  sources  of  divine 
instruction  and  command.  Those  who  do  not  regard  the 
Scriptures  as  divine,  if  they  agree  with  us  in  our  philo- 
sophy, will  be  no  less  delighted,  when  they  find  that  what 
by  others  is  regarded  as  divine,  confirms  the  sound  con- 
clusions and  instructions  of  their  own  acknowledged 
source  of  truth. 

Before  we  close  this  portion  of  our  essay,  we  would 
offer  something  in  the  shape  of  an  apology  for  our 
unveiling  such  a  subject,  which,  in  a  healthy,  pure  condi- 
tion of  society,  would  never  be  required.  We  have 
been  often  urged  to  use  our  pen  upon  this  subject,  by 
those  whose  judgment  we  esteemed  ;  but  the  inevitable 
risk  of  public  censure,  and  the  doubtfulness  of  doing 
much  "to  stay  the  plague,"  were  obstacles  apparently 
too  great  for  us  to  overcome. 

However,  as  we  find  in  our  investigations  that  this 
subject  of  abortion^m  gives  "  the  form  and  pressure  of  the 
time  " — enters,  with  subtle  stealthiness,  into  the  circle  of 
refined  and  social  life — tracks  wilily  its  slimy  way  amid 
the  guarded  portals  and  duenna-watched  seclusions  of 
the  seminaries  of  the  young — distills  its  aspen  poison  in 
the  feelings  of  domestic  life — inoculates  with  its  loath- 
some virus  the  maiden  and  the.  youth,  who  are  to  be  the 


ABORTIONISM.  157 

future  guardians  of  the  race — seduces  the  physician  from 
his  post  as  sentinel  of  nature — and  corrupts  the  judge 
upon  the  bench,  sworn  to  administer  law  and  justice  ; 
we  shall  avail  ourselves  of  the  resources  of  the  physical 
and  moral  fields  of  science,  to  convince  the  reader,  that 
for  a  woman  to  become  the  victim  of,  or  aider  in  the 
practice  of  abortion,  is  virtually  an  abdication  of  a  throne 
of  majesty  and  glory,  for  a  temporary  wallow  in  a  stye 
of  degradation  and  contempt. 


ICHTHYO-JECORO-PLASTY-AN   ASTONISHING 
DISCOVERY. 


The  nineteenth  century  seems  destined  to  eclipse  in 
scientific  discovery  all  that  has  gone  before  it.  Scarcely, 
has  one  wonder  had  time  to  subside  into  reality,  before 
another  breaks  upon  the  startled  ear,  and  our  eyes  are 
dazzled  and  our  brain  made  dizzy  with  its  successor. 
We  have  been  led  to  these  reflections  by  the  knowledge 
hitherto  only  imparted  to  a  few,  though  suspected  by 
many,  from  the  great  enterprise  of  a  commercial  drug 
house  in  this  city,  in  supplying  the  market  with  a  vast 
amount  of  an  article  of  the  greatest  value  to  suffering 
humanity,  and  which  it  was  supposed  could  not  be 
obtained  in  sufficient  quantity  to  supply  the  demand. 
We  allude  to  cod-liver  oil.  A  method  has  been  dis- 
covered, whereby  an  article  containing  all  the  virtues  of 
that  derived  from  the  liver  of  the  real  cod,  can  be  furnish- 
ed in  any  quantity.  The  enterprising  and  philanthropic 
gentlemen  who  have  procured  us  this  blessing,  were  in- 
cited to  their  humanitary  efforts,  by  a  knowledge  of  the 
great  amount  of  the  spurious  article  with  which  the 
market  was  inundated  by  unprincipled  men,  as  soon  as 
the  value  of  the  genuine  oil  became  known. 

Thoroughly  convinced  of  its  unspeakable  value,  and 
burning  with  a  noble  determination  to  check  the  heart- 
less imposition,  they  immediately  dispatched  the  most 
scientific  member  of  their  firm   to  the  Banks  of  New- 


ICHTHYO-JECOBO-PLASTY.  159 

foundland,  where  they  were  confident  of  procuring  an 
ample  supply,  as  that  is  known  to  be  a  natural  resort  of 
the  fish.  His  mission  was  successful  in  filling  the  earlier 
orders,  but  the  supply  threatened  to  fail.  His  active 
mind  soon  suggested  a  remedy,  which,  thank  Heaven, 
has  been  found  successful.  Reasoning  from  analogy  on  the 
wonderful  triumph  of  plastic  surgery,  and  vaccination, 
it  was  determined  to  ingraft,  after  the  manner  of  the  va- 
rious plastic  operations  performed  on  the  human  body, 
the  entire  hepatic  region  of  the  healthy  cod,  upon  the 
corresponding  region  of  some  larger  fish,  whereby  the 
liver  might  be  saturated  with  the  virtues  of  the  cod,  so  as 
to  yield  an  abundant  supply  of  oil,  possessing  the  almost 
magic  power  of  the  Oleum  Jecoris  Aselli. 

The  theory,  though  extraordinary,  was  in  accordance 
with  known  facts  ;  but  the  difficulty  of  attaining  the  real- 
ization of  the  project,  with  the  great  expense  and  inevita- 
ble ridicule  attendant  upon  a  failure,  could  only  be  over- 
come by  the  most  disinterested  philanthropy,  indefatiga- 
ble industry,  and  genius.  This  rare  combination  of  qual- 
ities has  been  found  in  the  gentleman  whose  modesty 
shrinks  from  the  praise  to  which  he  is  so  justly  entitled, 
and  which  he  will  undoubtedly  receive  from  future  gen- 
erations ;  thousands  yet  unborn  will  bless  his  name. 

No  difficulty  was  anticipated  in  taking  the  small  black 
whale,  (the  physeter  niger  of  naturalists,)  nor  any  in  per- 
forming, by  the  aid  of  the  interrupted  suture,  the  very 
simple  operation.  The  only  real  and  apparently  insuper- 
able obstacle  was  found  in  taking  the  whales  without  inju- 
ry, and  detaining  them  in  a  state  of  health,  in  an  inclosure 
sufficiently  moderate  in  extent  to  admit  of  their  feeding 
and  recapture,  when  the  process  of  union  and  the  impreg- 
nation of  the  liver  were  completed.  This  was  finally  ac- 
complished in  a  manner  beautifully  simple  and  effective. 


160  ICHTHYO-JECORO-PLASTY. 

An  estuary,  or  narrow  bay,  extending  several  acres  into 
the  land,  was  securely  staked  off  at  its  mouth,  all  but  a 
narrow  opening ;  this  was  furnished  with  double  flood- 
gates, similiar  to  the  locks  of  a  canal.  Through  this  the 
small  whales  are  driven  with  powerful  seines  by  the  fisher- 
men, who  are  constantly  on  the  watch.  They  come  in 
considerable  numbers  to  feed  upon  the  herrings  and  other 
small  fish,  that  seek  their  food  in  immense  shoals  along 
the  shores  of  Newfoundland.  The  same  method  is  adopt- 
ed in  supplying  the  whales  with  these  fish  as  food, 
whenever  required,  and  in  drawing  them  upon  the 
beach  of  the  bay  itself,  for  the  performance  of  the  op- 
eration. 

The  largest  specimens  of  cod  are  chosen  for  this  pur- 
pose ;  these  are  taken  by  the  hook  and  line,  on  reefs  in 
the  deeper  water.  Frequently  as  many  as  a  dozen 
whales  at  a  time  have  been  undergoing  this  extraordinary 
process  within  the  inclosure.  The  cod  completely  as- 
similates with  its  huge  foster  parent,  and  both  are  found 
in  a  state  of  perfect  health  at  the  end  of  a  month,  when 
experience  has  proved  the  liver  of  the  larger  fish  to  be 
highly  impregnated  with  the  virtues  of  the  cod.  Chemi- 
cal tests  detect  the  iodine,  bromine,  and  all  the  other  es- 
sential salts,  the  oil  being,  moreover,  of  high  specific 
gravity. 

Thus  has  science  completely  triumphed  over  this  ap- 
parently insuperable  obstacle,  and  another  imperishable 
leaf  been  added  to  the  volume  of  humanity,  and  sound 
inductive  physiology. 

It  is  to  be  hoped  that  all  who  require  the  remedy,  will 
now  be  impressed  with  the  importance  of  obtaining  the 
"  genuine  article,"  from  the  gentlemen  who  are  evidently 
governed  by  such  enlarged  views  of  science,  and  a  hu- 
manitary  principle  so  noble. 


GREAT  PHILANTHROPIC   ENTERPRISE. 


A  celebeated  tonsorial  (shaving)  firm  in  this  city, 
whose  feelings  have  been  severely  lacerated  by  the  fre- 
quent impositions  of  their  brethren,  in  selling  a  spuri- 
ous article  alleged  to  be  the  genuine  axungia  ursi  or  bear's 
grease,  whereas  it  is  known  to  be  nothing  but  axungia 
porcince  or  hog's  fat,  fired  with  a  noble  determination  to 
procure  an  article  of  the  very  best  quality,  have  sent  one 
of  the  most  scientific  members  of  their  firm  to  California, 
with  ample  funds  to  secure  aid  in  capturing  that  formida- 
ble monster,  the  ursus  horribilis  or  grizzly  bear,  in  any 
numbers  that  may  be  required  to  supply  their  numer- 
ous customers  with  genuine  bear's  oiL 

Reasoning  from  the  well-known  doctrine  of  the  immor- 
tal Hahnemann,  "  similia  similibus  curantur,"  they  con- 
cluded that  the  fat  of  the  ursus  horribilis  of  naturalists, 
or  the  grizzly  bear  of  our  newly  acquired  auriferous  ter- 
ritory, as  a  stimulus  for  the  growth  of  hair,  would  prove 
of  far  greater  value,  as  that  animal  is  well  known  to  be 
clothed  with  a  formidable  capillary  growth,  and  that  the 
glands  which  produce  it,  originate  in  the  cuticle  directly 
over  the  thickest  layer  of  fat.  Their  efforts  have  been 
crowned  with  complete  success  ;  as  the  frequent  ac- 
counts of  the  terrific  fights  with  that  formidable  monster, 
and  the  vigorous  growth  from  even  juvenile  chins  in 
Broadway,  will  satisfy  the  most  incredulous. 

The  following  modest  card  of  this  enterprising  firm,  it 


162  GKEAT  PHTLANTHBOPIC  DISCOVERY. 

is  hoped  will  receive  immediate  attention  by  all  the  young 
gentlemen  desirous  of  sporting  their  manly  honors  : — 

"  Being  now  in  receipt  of  an  ample  supply  of  fresh 
bear's  oil,  from  our  Mr.  Swizzle-em,  in  California,  which 
is  extracted  under  his  own  nose  from  the  fat  of  the  ursu; 
horribilis  or  grizzly  bear,  we  shall  be  happy  to  receive 
your  orders.     Our  signature  is  over  the  cork. 

Shaveall,  Swizzle-em  &  Co." 

"  N.B. — We  publish  the  following  in  order  to  expose  a 
Boston  firm,  who  allege  that  they  have  an  agency  in  Cali- 
fornia, and  have  got  up  a  bottle  similiar  in  all  respects 
to  ours.  We  warn  the  public  to  look  for  our  signature 
over  the  cork. 

"  Personally  appeared  before  me,  M.  Monargas,  Judge 
of  the  Superior  Court  of  San  Francisco,  George  Swizzle- 
em,  Esq.,  having  lost  his  left  leg  and  right  hand,  in  an 
encounter  with  a  grizzly  bear,  whilst  endeavoring  to  take 
the  same  for  the  use  of  Shaveall,  Swizzle-em  &  Co.,  of 
New  York,  to  all  of  which  he  made  oath,  this  13th  day  of 
December,  1850. 

"  M.  Monargas." 


SCENES   IN  EARLY  PRACTICE. 


THE    OLD    EAST    WING    OF    BELLEYCE  ;     ITS    TRANSFORMATION— SCENES    IN    THB 
CHOLERA  OF  1833— POWER  OF  ART. 


" Fearest  thou  to  die?   Famine  is  in  thy  cheeks ;  need  and  oppression  stareth 
in  thy  eyes  ;  npon  thy  back  hangs  ragged  misery." 

There  is  a  wide,  an  immeasurable  distance  between 
two  classes  of  our  profession  ;  we  mean  those  who  take 
it  up  from  the  lofty  point  of  its  broadly  philosophical 
and  humanitary  character,  and  those  who  view  it  solely 
as  a  physic-giving  and  money-getting  trade.  Neither 
tongues  of  angels,  nor  the  memory  of  the  lost  and 
loved,  can  speak  to  the  one,  but  even  dead  walls  some- 
times reveal  to  the  other  all  the  sympathies  of  the  soul. 
A  few  months  since  I  was  requested  to  visit  a  lovely 
boy,  the  brother  of  a  friend  whose  noble  sentiments  on 
the  true  mission  of  the  artist  have  often  instructed  our 
readers,  and  from  whom  they  may  soon  expect  the 
ripened  fruits  of  trans- Atlantic  travel.* 

I  had  enjoyed  the  social  and  elevating  companionship 
of  this  delightful  family,  since  a  previous  professional 
visit  of  some  two  years  before  the  sad  occasion  which 
now  summoned  me,  and  as  that  visit  resulted  favorably, 
I  found  no  reason,  in  our  pleasing  intercourse,  for  con- 
cealing the  moving  reminiscences  which  were  awakened 
on  entering  the  house.  The  apartment  chiefly  connect- 
ed with  them,  was  the  one  in  which  I  related  them  to  my* 

*  John  Matthews,  author  of  "  Letters  from  Europe."    See  Scalpel. 


164  SCENES  IN   EAKLY  PRACTICE. 

friends  ;  then  it  was  one  of  the  cholera  wards  of  the  wo- 
men's side  of  the  hospital ;  now,  its  walls  are  hung  round 
with  medallions,  and  busts  and  statuettes  are  distribut- 
ed about  in  profusion,  the  production  of  my  friend  Mul- 
ler,  the  sculptor,  whose  genial  soul  and  expressive  face 
have  been  well  matched  by  the  companion  of  his  future 
life  and  studies,  he  has  had  the  good  fortune  to  secure  in 
the  family  of  my  friend.  It  is  a  grand  old  room  of  spa- 
cious size,  and  has  a  large  centre-table,  which,  though  it 
does  not  contain  quite  a  cartman's  load  of  timber,  yet  it 
somehow  seems  to  me  to  be  a  very  graceful  piece  of  fur- 
niture ;  whether  in  consequence  of  its  noble  proportions 
or  its  hospitable  use,  I  will  not  stop  to  inquire  ;  yet  I  am 
always  delightfully  impressed  by  its  attractiveness  ;  the 
spirits  might  try  to  tip  it,  but  if  it  be  in  spiritual  science 
as  in  electricity,  that  like  repels  like,  I  am  quite  sure  they 
would  fail,  for  there  is  always  some  of  their  kindred, 
not  exactly  disembodied,  but  occupying  glassy  tenements, 
gracefully  grouped  on  its  surface,  and  their  more  ethereal 
brethren  would  be  guilty  of  bad  manners  to  overturn 
their  less  elastic  cousins.  Some  people  might  think 
these  spirits,  when  disembodied  by  that  spiral  persuader 
— you  know,  reader — might  chance  to  "  tip  "  the  em- 
bodied ones  that  surround  the  said  table,  but  the  ladies 
were  always  present,  and  it  would  not  be  proper  to  be  so 
familiar  in  the  use  of  such  deceivers. 

On  entering  the  house,  a  modern  front  and  new  stair- 
ways and  divisions  had  so  completely  renovated  the  inte- 
rior that  it  was  utterly  impossible  to  recognize  the  old 
west  wing  of  Bellevue  Hospital.  When  I  used  to  visit  it 
during  my  student's  life  of  eighteen-thirty,  that  institu- 
tion was  quite  a  large  village  ;  it  comprised  the  entire 
poor-house  establishment,  and  occupied  several  squares, 
and  was  supposed  at  that  time  to  be  so  far  from  the  city, 


« 
SCENES  IN    EARLY  PRACTICE.  165 

as  to  be  quite  secure  from  the  invasion  of  streets  and 
dwelling-houses  ;  now,  it  is  confined  to  a  single  square  at 
the  foot  of  Twenty-seventh  street,  and  is  used  as  a  hos- 
pital for  the  poor.  It  was  not  long  after  the  irruption  of 
cholera  in  the  year  thirty-two,  that  the  wards  were  filled 
with  wretched  patients  from  the  city  ;  the  sedans  and 
the  hearse  were  in  constant  use,  and  large  piles  of 
rough  coffins  awaited  their  occupants  in  the  yards. 

One  day,  before  the  appearance  of  the  disease  at  the 
House  of  Refuge,  of  which  I  then  had  the  medical  super- 
vision, I  went  over  to  see  what  success  the  physicians 
had  in  treating  the  disease.  The  great  gateway  was  then 
at  least  the  distance  of  a  square  from  the  hospital,  and 
nearly  on  a  line  with  the  Second  Avenue  ;  quite  a  long 
walk  intervened,  and  before  you  reached  the  hospital 
there  were  numerous  offices  and  workshops  stretched 
and  scattered  about,  with  that  unusually  clean  exterior, 
yet  indefinable  carelessness,  that  would  seem  to  belong 
to  every  great  establishment  where  individual  ownership 
does  not  direct  industrial  effort.  In  all  places  where 
men  are  engaged  by  forced  labor  to  preserve  order,  and 
no  one  owns  the  ground — where  the  humanities  are  not 
the  spontaneous  growth  of  the  heart,  and  where  Christ's 
command,  "  Help  one  another,"  is  not  the  sole  motive 
power,  you  will  always  observe  the  general  features  of  a 
poor-house.  Poor  old  women  and  blear-eyed  men,  puffy 
and  dough-faced  children  with  short  bow  legs,  hunched- 
up  shoulders,  thick,  bloodless  lips,  and  vacant  faces,  and 
unspeculative  eyes,  wandered  about,  gazing  on  the  ground, 
never  upwards — there  was  no  motive  ;  the  eyes  were 
scrofulous,  and  the  sun  was  too  bright ;  their  begin- 
nings were  unwholesome,  and  partook  of  the  cellar. 
Insolent  officials  who,  being  preferred  from  their  own 
ranks,  felt  their  power,  and  kicked  and  cuffed  them  out 


166  SCENES  IN   EAELY  PBACTICE. 

of  the  path.  Two  lazy  dogs  very  fat,  (they  belonged 
to  the  higher  officers,  and  were  not  fed  from  the  poor- 
house  table,)  several  sleek  cows  to  supply  the  super- 
intendent's family  with  milk  ;  bright-eyed  and  well-fed 
fowls  and  fat  swine,  also  belonging  to  that  functionary. 
His  spacious  cottage  and  beautiful  lawn  ran  down  to 
the  river,  and  there  were  two  peacocks  on  the  grass, 
typical  of  his  high  position.  A  smith's  shop,  a  bakery, 
a  coffin  manufactory,  and  a  dead-house,  foimed  the 
agreeable  diversities  that  more  immediately  lined  the 
path  leading  to  the  old  hospital,  where  we  were  now 
taking  our  lunch  with  the  delightful  family  of  my  friend, 
and  the  slightly  different  getting  up  of  the  menage. 
Christ's  command,  "  Love  one  another,"  was  fulfilled  un- 
der more  favorable  auspices  :  family  affection,  education, 
refinement,  and  a  good  table,  are  capital  helps  to  religion. 

We  must  apologize  to  our  fair  readers  for  troubling 
their  sweet  dreams  with  this  "horrid  sketch,"  but  like 
some  other  professional  doses,  it  may  possibly  do  them 
good  ;  indeed  we  think  it  far  more  likely  to  answer  the 
end  we  propose  than  most  of  such  doses  for  the  body. 
Pray,  therefore,  darling,  incline  your  lovely  bust  a  little 
more  to  the  left  of  your  "  fauteuil,"  and  permit  me  to  ele- 
vate that  charming  little  foot  a  trifle  higher  on  the  cush- 
ion. I  fear  you  will  be  distressed  at  what  follows,  but  I 
must  beg  you  to  take  the  prescription  ;  it  may  benefit 
your  heart  a  little.  Indeed  it  assuredly  would  if  you 
only  would  eat  a  little  more  solid  food,  take  a  few  miles 
of  wholesome  exercise  properly  shod  and  clad,  and  give 
up  parties,  and  balls,  and  the  opera  for  a  few  months, 
and  visit  the  poor  occasionally.  A  lesson  in  the  human- 
ities may  help  your  morals  as  well  as  a  fashionable  ser- 
mon by  Dr.  Cream  Cheese. 

On  our  way  to  the  hospital,  (I  say  our  way,  for  the  read- 


SCENES  IN  EAELY  PRACTICE.  167 

er  will  be  amazed  to  know  the  editor  was  actually  accom- 
panied by  a  young  divinity  student — and  I  think  he  could 
not  have  begun  his  studies  with  a  better  lesson)  we  were 
hailed  by  a  professional  brother  who  stuck  his  head  out 
of  the  window  of  the  dead-house,  and  politely  requested 
us  to  enter.  Poor  fellow,  he,  like  his  subjects,  has  long 
since  turned  to  dust,  and  here  are  we !  Check-aproned 
and  sleeved,  he  looked^  were  it  not  for  his  intellectual 
face  and  bloody  hands,  and  scalpel,  not  unlike  in  his 
habiliments,  his  neighbor  the  baker !  Several  students 
were  surrounding  the  table  on  which  he  was  demonstrat- 
ing from  "a  cadaver"  the  softening  of  the  intestinal 
mucous  membrane,  the  chief  change  visible  to  the  path- 
ologist, caused  by  that  awful  and  mysterious  disease 
which  has  formed  so  grand  a  decimator  of  humanity, 
and  which  (we  believe  it  reader)  comes  with  merciful 
intent  to  freshen  the  ensuing  generations  by  destroying 
the  worthless  of  the  present  one.  Do  not  shudder,  my 
love  ;  the  cool  page  of  science  might  bring  you  to  the 
same  conclusion  ;  perhaps  not  you,  but  Charlotte  Bronte, 
or  some  such  coarse  creature  ;  you  may  as  well  at  pres- 
ent take  up  Lalla  Rookh,  or  the  last  new  novel,  as  a  re- 
freshment. My  friend  was  as  cool  in  his  pathological 
disquisitions,  as  we  are  wont  to  be  in  our  philosphical 
conclusions  about  fashionable  life  and  its  infirmities. 
I  thought  he  always  spoke  rather  sneeringly  of  medical 
treatment,  considering  the  future  occupation  of  his  stu- 
dents and  his  visitors  ;  but  poor  Morrill  was  a  philoso- 
pher ;  he  viewed  pathology  as  the  means  of  discovering 
the  true  laws  of  healthful  life,  by  studying  those  changes 
of  structure  which  by  more  remote  or  more  rapid  action 
had  succeeded  in  destroying  the  body  ;  he  did  not  expect 
by  exposing  with  his  scalpel  the  ravages  of  syphilis,  scrofu- 
la, drunkenness  and  starvation,  that  he  could  discover  how 
8 


168  SCENES  m   EAItLY  PRACTICE. 

to  eradicate  them  with  physic  !  therefore  he  always  sneer- 
ed when  he  came  to  speak  of  medical  treatment  by  dosing, 
and  was  accordingly  hated  by  the  young  aspirants,  and 
the  old  medical  pawnbrokers  in  physic,  phlebotomy,  and 
fees. 

One  fact  on  that  occasion  forcibly  impressed  me  ;  I 
then  suspected  its  true  source,  and  have  since  proved  it 
by  the  stronger  esthetic  impulseg  of  advancing  years,  and 
it  has  now  become  part  of  my  religion  ;  it  is  this  :  I  can 
not  respect  either  the  living  or  dead  body  of  a  filthy  per- 
son ;  I  had  not  then,  and  I  have  still  less  at  present, 
either  feeling  or  sympathy  for  a  filthy  man  or  woman. 
I  cannot  sit  by  the  side  of  a  Jesuit  priest  with  his  sweat- 
ing black  gown,  nor  one  of  his  Irish  proselyfes  in  a  rail- 
car  ;  I  can  feel  no  respect  for  them,  living  or  dead  ;  nor 
can  I  believe  that  any  penance,  even  of  good  works,  can 
be  entirely  acceptable  to  God,  if  the  person  who  performs 
it  be  unclean.  The  hands  and  feet  of  the  subjects  my 
friend  examined,  deprived  me  of  all  respect  for  their  re- 
mains. I  have  always  approached  the  bodies  of  the 
cleanly  dead  with  a  certain  degree  of  reverence ;  they 
seem  to  demand  respect ;  you  feel  that  filthy  or  trifling 
speech,  when  examining  the  poor  vanquished  body  that 
only  precedes  you  a  little  while,  is  an  insult  to  the  Crea- 
tor ;  an  unmanly  liberty  taken  with  the  dead,  which  you 
would  not  perhaps  dare  take  with  the  living.  All  the  chol- 
era subjects  I  saw  were  filthy,  and  they  were  handled  ac- 
cordingly ;  there  was  not  a  man  there  but  would  have 
behaved  himself  more  respectfully  in  the  presence  of 
more  cleanly  clay. 

After  an  hour  thus  spent,  we  sought  the  hospital ;  en- 
tering at  one  end  of  the  ward,  the  beds  were  arranged  on 
either  side  to  the  number  of  fifty  or  sixty  at  least ;  a 
passage-way,  not  exceeding  six  feet,  ran  between  the  two 


SCENES  IN    EARLY  PRACTICE.  169 

rows  of  ghastly  patients  in  every  stage  of  the  horrid 
disease ;  some  were  writhing,  their  limbs  knotted  by 
cramps  ;  these  were  apparently  parboiled  ;  all  the  serum 
or  fluid  part  of  the  blood  had  run  out  of  the  myriad  ves- 
sels of  the  intestines,  and  there  was  no  counteraction  to 
the  atmospheric  pressure  ;  the  solid  parts  of  the  blood 
were  driven  inward  upon  the  great  vessels  and  viscera  ; 
the  valves  of  the  heart  were  clogged;  the  engine  refused 
to  go  without  its  fuel.  Three  students  were  busy  mak- 
ing oxygen  gas  to  stimulate  the  poor  lungs  and  heart,  and 
make  'em  go !  Poh !  as  well  might  the  foolish  boys,  if 
they  had  a  steam-engine,  supply  the  boiler  with  tar,  when 
there  was  only  a  tithe  of  the  necessary  water  in  the  top 
chamber. 

There  was  just  as  much  oxygen  in  the  air  then  as 
there  is  now,  and  it  answered  the  purpose  of  such  of  us 
as  had  organic  strength  enough  to  resist  the  lurking  in- 
fection. God  knows  we  were  breathing  it  then  in  its 
highest  intensity,  as  well  as  the  poor  paupers,  and  here 
we  are  yet ;  but  we  had  wine  and  beef,  and  plenty  of  good 
vegetables,  and  good  dry  beds,  and  large  rooms,  with  pure 
air  ;  blood-poisoned  and  air-starved  bodies,  close  rooms, 
filth,  and  poor  food,  caused  the  mortality.  Neither  oxygen 
nor  cayenne,  opium,  ether,  nor  camphor  and  opium,  nor 
brandy,  would  cure  the  dying.  The  serpent  was  wreathing 
his  awful  coils  around  them  and  playing  fantastic  pranks 
with  their  limbs.  I  actually  saw  the  yet  breathing  body 
lying  by  the  side  of  the  dead !  In  yonder  corner  was  a 
poor  noisy  wretch  shouting  out  from  her  bed,  as  a  dead 
body  was  occasionally  carried  out ;  "  Give  the  poor  cree- 
tur  corporation  plank  enough  this  time,  for  God's  sake. 
I  shall  take  considerable  more  when  I  go  ;  have  a  good 
long  one  ready  for  me,  that's  a  good  soul,  won't  ye  doc- 
tor ?"    Poor  creature !     I  inquired  for  her  next  day,  and 


170         SCENES  IN  EARLY  PRACTICE. 

she  had  her  request ;  early  that  morning,  with  twelve 
others,  she  went  up  "to  the  field." 

I  had  visited  the  hospital  for  several  days,  when  we 
had  our  first  case  at  the  House  of  Refuge  ;  the  morning 
of  its  occurrence  I  had  seen  several  patients  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. The  Refuge  stood  at  the  intersection  of  Broad- 
way and  between  the  Fifth  and  Madison  avenues,  in  the 
present  park.  As  I  returned  to  my  charge  that  noon, 
the  gate-keeper  told  me  one  of  the  boys  had  just  been 
carried  to  the  hospital  with  "the  cramps."  For  six 
weeks  I  slept  in  a  room  with  my  door  opening  into  the 
large  hospital,  where  we  always  had  a  full  complement 
of  patients.  Bating  the  night-watching  and  out-door 
toil,  I  never  had  better  health.  Our  steward  supplied  us 
with  the  best  of  sixpenny  beef  fried  in  hog's  fat,  with  fly- 
gravy  and  bread-pudding  at  discretion ;  and  we  had  a 
beautiful  vineyard,  and  plenty  of  roses.  Robert  C.  Cor- 
nell, the  friend  of  man  and  of  the  unfortunate,  sent  me  a 
basket  of  capital  Madeira  ;  and  my  little  bird  was  away 
on  the  banks  of  the  glorious  Hudson,  in  health  and 
peace.  My  poor  boys  did  pretty  well  too.  I  fed  them 
up  beyond  cholera  point — all  but  two,  and  them  we  put 
away  just  outside  the  wall  after  night-fall ;  the  children 
skip  the  rope  and  trundle  the  hoop  over  them  now  in 
Madison  Square  ;  but  it's  no  matter.  They  were  poor 
little  orphans,  and  were  kindly  treated  by  us  all  ;  their 
materiel  was  bad,  doughy,  scrofulous  ;  they  had  no  life- 
force.  I  didn't  physic  them  to  death  ;  on  the  contrary, 
I  gave  them  good  beef-tea  and  brandy  ;  but  their  feeble 
blood  ran  away ;  their  hose  was  out  of  order,  and 
wouldn't  supply  the  great  boiler,  the  heart ;  the  poor 
limbs  withered,  and  so  they  died  away  gently,  as  the  del- 
icate little  flowers  close  before  the  fierce  sun-heat  withers 
them.     No  mothers  wept  over  them  ;  their  playmates 


SCENES  m   EARLY  PRACTICE.         171 

looked  at  their  poor  little  blanched  bodies,  and  thanked 
God  it  was  not  them.  They  played  marbles  the  next  day 
quite  as  well  without  them.  But  I  often  heard  them 
speak  kindly  of  poor  little  Dick  and  Joe. 

It  was  about  ten  years  after  this  that  an  awful  fever 
broke  out  amongst  the  poor  women  who  were  obliged  to 
go  to  Bellevue  to  be  confined  in  this  ward.  This  is  a 
mysterious  disease,  in  its  nature  ;  like  the  cholera  and  all 
other  infectious  diseases,  we  know  nothing  whatever 
about  its  origin,  and,  until  recently,  very  little  about  its 
treatment.  It  is  highly  infectious  to  all  after  parturi- 
tion, and  generally  "  goes  through  the  house  ;"  none 
else  but  those  who  have  been  confined  are  susceptible. 
It  is  useless  to  particularize  its  characteristics.  I  went 
up  to  see  the  changes  produced  on  the  internal  organs, 
and  was  delighted  to  see  the  close  attention  to  philo- 
sophical and  inductive  study  by  the  students  and  their 
friend,  Dr.  Alonzo  Clark,  the  accomplished  medical  scholar 
and  refined  gentleman,  now  Professor  of  the  Practice 
and  Pathology  in  the  State  University  Medical  College. 
He  was  instructing  his  class,  and  gave  me  great  hope 
that  philosophical  medicine  would  yet  take  its  deserved 
rank  in  our  colleges  ;  but  the  speculative  disposition  of 
our  people,  I  fear,  will  prevent  it  for  many  years.  Diplo- 
mas and  physic  must  be  sold.  The  mortality  was  great, 
and  many  orphans  were  left  to  the  care  of  the  city.  I  lost 
several  fees  which  I  could  ill  afford,  but  I  could  not  con- 
scientiously attend  those  about  to  be  confined,  for  several 
weeks  afterwards  ;  the  disease  is  so  contagious. 

Some  two  years  since,  after  twenty-five  years'  interval, 
I  revisited,  as  I  have  said,  the  old  ward  of  the  Bellevue 
Hospital.  The  visit  was  only  of  friendship,  for  the  child 
of  my  friend  was  under  the  kind  care  of  an  excellent  and 
humane  physician.    By  that  mysterious,  and  as  yet  in- 


172  SCENES  IN   EARLY  PRACTICE. 

explicable  law,  which  allows  vigor,  and  health,  and  man- 
hood, sometimes  to  two  or  three  of  the  first  children, 
sometimes  to  as  many  of  the  last,  and  insures  early  death 
to  the  others,  two  of  my  friend's   later   children  were 
swept  off  consecutively.     A  sister  had  preceded  the  lovely 
boy  I  was  visiting,  and  both  died  of  disease  of  the  brain. 
We  had  been  amused  and  delighted  with  his  prattle  but 
a  few  weeks  before,  and  nothing  serious  was  apprehended, 
until  one   day,  on  going  to  school,   he  complained  of 
double  vision  ;  other  and  rapid  symptoms  followed  this 
alarming  one,  and  in  a  few  weeks  he  died — with  all  that 
medical  and  devoted  parental  love  could  do  to  keep  him. 
Again  I  visited  the  old  east  wing,  and  most  forcibly  did 
the  contrast  impress  me.     The  hand  of  genius  was  every- 
where visible.     Statuettes  and  alto  relievos,  Washington, 
Clay,  Webster,  Calhoun,  a  figure  of  America,  and  offer- 
ings to  love  and  domestic  happiness  in   the  shape   of 
the  busts  of  a  new-found  father  and  mother,  a  brother  and 
wife,   were   hung  round  the   walls,  and  rested  on  pe- 
destals and  brackets.     They  were  all  by  the  chisel  of 
the  sculptor  of  the  "  Minstrel's  Curse."     The  grand  old 
table  was  removed  from  the  spot  where  we  had  been  so 
happy,  and  where  the  laugh  went  round  so  merrily  ; 
and  there  rested  in  its  place  the  coffin  of  that  dear  child, 
whose  life  was  so  interwoven  with  the  hearts  of  the  liv- 
ing.    Sweet  and  placid  were  the  noble  and  calm  brow 
and  features  undisturbed  by  a  wrinkle,  and  pure  as  the 
marble  block  to  which  the  hand  of  his  new  brother  has 
now  transferred  them.     A  wreath  lay  on  the  coffin,  fash- 
ioned by  the  hand  of  a  sister,  and  friends  and  neighbors 
gathered  round.     In  a  short  hour  the  prayer  was  said, 
the  old  massive  carriage  was  rolled  out  of  the  stable,  and 
the  friends  and  parents  went  their  sad  way  with  their 
second   darling  to  the   tomb.     On   a  beautiful  hill  in 


SCENES  IN   EAELY  PRACTICE.  173 

Greenwood,  looking  to  the  south,  the  brother  has  placed 
his  offerings  to  both.  The  boy  looks  proudly  upward 
from  his  pedestal ;  the  little  girl  is  tripping  along  with 
an  air  so  life-like  ;  but  both  are  very  cold.  The  metal 
gives  no  response  to  a  mother's  or  a  father's  love  ;  yet 
oh,  how  warmly  the  sleepers  nestle  in  memory!  How 
lovely  is  the  art  that  can  thus  baffle  old  Time!  we 
thought,  as  we  gazed  upon  the  exquisitely  simple  statue 
of  the  sweet  child,  with  her  little  satchel,  going  to  school  : 
what  are  we  all  but  children  going  to  school?  These 
have  only  been  dismissed  a  little  sooner,  and  gone 
home! 


SKETCHES  OF  THE  PEOPLE-WATCHING  YOUR 
DIGNITY. 


It  is  quite  surprising  what  an  immense  number  of 
people  are  continually  engaged  in  watching  their  dignity. 
Don  Quixote  was  occupied  for  a  whole  night  in  watching 
his  armor  on  the  top  of  the  cistern  in  the  innkeeper's 
yard  ;  nor  do  we  think  he  had  a  much  harder  time  of  it 
than  some  of  our  fellow-citizens.     "We  often  think  of  his 
measured  and  solemn  step  as  he  paced  to  and  fro,  when 
we  see  the  grotesque  exhibitions  so  common  in  society. 
There  is  a  great  difference  in  the  quality  of  this  armor 
of  dignity,  and  it  is  got  up  in  such  a  variety  of  forms, 
that  the  curious  observer  can  divert  himself  all  day,  and 
begin  afresh  next  morning,  sure  of  an  endless  succession 
of  exhibiters.     Extraordinary  as  the  apparatus  is,  how- 
ever, it  is  generally  most  skillfully  adapted  to  the  wearer ; 
and  if  we  may  judge  of  the  worth  of  the  contents  by  the 
care  that  is  taken  in  their  wrappings,  they  must  be  often 
of  extraordinary  value.     After  a  time  the  observer  may 
come,  in  some  degree,  also,  to  judge  of  the  character  of 
his  specimen  by  his  face  and  gait,  as  well  as  his  armor. 
Should  he  observe  a  gentleman  with  a  very  precise  step, 
as  though  he  were  treading  on  eggs  and  feared  to  break 
them,  a  suit  of  black,  and  a  white  neck-cloth,  he  will  of 
course  pass  for  a  clergyman.     Now,  I  take  it,  that  this 
peculiar  unwillingness  of  the  legs  to  get  over  the  ground, 


WATCHING  YOUR  DIGNITY.  175 

is  expressive  of  the  degree  of  clerical  authority  their 
owner  has  attained.  If  he  be  naturally  of  a  pliable  tem- 
perament, and  his  congregation  consist  chiefly  of  women, 
he  will  not  gain  strength  rapidly,  either  in  his  head  or 
his  legs ;  the  character  of  his  mental  property  will  be 
chiefly  in  the  rear  of  the  brain.  If  he  have  a  few  gray 
heads  in  the  vestry,  he  may  find  it  prudent  to  walk  with 
circumspection  for  some  time  longer  ;  perhaps  his  invest- 
ments in  the  anterior  region  of  the  brain  will  increase, 
and  after  a  while  he  may  attain  the  port  and  dignity  of  a 
natural  man.  There  will  be  very  little  difficulty,  how- 
ever, in  recognizing  the  clerical  gait  and  dress,  and  if  he 
opens  his  mouth,  you  are  sure  of  him  ;  his  words  are  too 
valuable  for  any  but  the  most  solemn  utterance.  Once  in 
a  while  the  acute  observer  will  find  a  medical  cub  put 
on  the  sheep's  skin,  and  assume  the  white  neck-cloth  and 
clerical  gait ;  but  it's  of  no  use,  the  twinkle  of  his  eye  will 
betray  him  ;  he  looks  foolish ;  besides,  the  feeble  and 
slow  step  looks  like  a  heavy  heart  and  no  business.  The 
undertaker,  as  he  passes  such  a  fellow,  gives  no  evidence  of 
respect,  and  when  he  speaks  of  him  he  smiles  pitifully, 
saying,  as  plainly  as  his  face  can  say,  poor  young  man, 
he's  of  no  use.  We  give  our  clerical  friends  the  first 
place,  as  in  duty  bound  ;  they  seem  always  to  get  it, 
whether  deserving  or  not,  and  we  don't  care  to  dispute 
their  claim.  The  Tribune,  in  a  late  article,  entitled 
"  Health  for  the  People,"  thinks  it  would  be  peculiarly 
appropriate  for  them  to  expound  the  laws  of  life  to  the 
multitude.  No  doubt  they  would  excel  in  dietetics  ;  as 
they  are  so  manly,  we  would  advise  the  addition  of  gym- 
nasia and  athletic  exercises — "sparring"  by  the  Eev. 
Doctor  so  and  so.  Cooking  would  come  naturally.  Phy- 
siology would  be  rather  doubtful ;  it  as  been  thought 
by  free  thinkers  slightly  anti-clericaL 


176  SKETCHES   OF  THE  PEOPLE. 

Should  the  student,  as  he  goes  down  Broadway,  ob- 
serve a  stout  gentleman,  clad  in  the  extreme  of  fashion, 
with  a  diamond  cluster  on  his  shirt  bosom,  a  large  seal- 
ring  on  his  little  finger,  and  a  severely  sculptured  cornice 
to  an  eye  like  a  red  hot  brad-awl,  which  takes  you  and 
your  pocket  at  a  glance,  and  a  well-dyed  moustache  and 
imperial,  standing  like  a  caryatide  on  one  side  of  the  St. 
Nicholas  Hotel,  (he  never  picks  his  teeth  now,  that  has 
become  too  vulgar,)  he  is  a  gentleman  who  used  to  keep 
elegant  bachelor's  rooms  in  Broadway.  At  present  we 
don't  know  what  he  keeps  ;  but  he  is  still  there,  and  no 
doubt  will  resume  his  occupation  with  courage  when 
the  new  law  is  a  little  older.  At  any  rate  he  is  there 
yet ;  we  apprehend  it  will  be  some  time  before  he  goes 
away,  or  goes  to  work.  This  gentleman  takes  great  care 
of  his  dignity,  and  is  most  punctilious  in  exacting  the 
minutest  attention  to  etiquette.  His  elegant  hospitality  at 
his  recherche  apartments  was  well  known  to  our  verdant 
civic  and  country  fast-gentlemen.  Some  of  them  doubtless 
recur  to  the  delightful  memories  of  champagne  and  game 
suppers,  when  pursuing  their  geological  investigations  at 
Sing-Sing  or  California.  They  got  considerable  dignity 
on  their  introduction  to  the  gambling  rooms,  and  can 
now  watch  it  retrospectively  in  Uncle  Sam's  College.  A 
shaved  head  and  striped  jacket  furnish  a  pleasant 
contrast,  and  quietness  aids  their  reminiscences.  The 
facilities  enjoyed  are  by  no  means  lost  upon  this  class  of 
our  citizens,  and  they  not  unfrequently  become  adepts  in 
their  respective  callings  when  they  graduate.  Compari- 
son with  seniors  greatly  facilitates  their  improvement. 
They  may  progress  so  well  as  to  become  available  candi- 
dates for  municipal  offices,  such  Aldermen,  Street  In- 
spectors, Captains  of  Police,  etc.  Wall  Street  is  the 
beneficent  Alsatia  always  ready  to  receive  the  unfortun- 


WATCHING  YOUR  DIGNITY.  177 

ate  children  who  have  strayed  from  their  doting  mamma, 
to  revise  their  studies  in  ethics  and  finance  at  the  college 
at  Sing  Sing. 

A  class  of  our  civic  aristocracy  may  be  seen  demurely 
walking  about  the  streets,  dressed  in  a  very  quiet  and 
subdued  tone,  and  presenting  to  all  appearance  speci- 
mens of  common  well-bred  people.  They  wear  little  or  no 
ornament,  chew  no  tobacco,  will  not  step  on  your  toes, 
will  courteously  give  you  a  seat  in  the  omnibus,  neither 
pick  their  teeth,  chew  the  tooth-pick,  nor  clean  their  nails 
in  public ;  they  are  a  very  good  sort  of  stupid  people. 
The  observer  may  know  them  as  the  descendants  of  the  old 
Knickerbockers  or  Huguenot  families,  or  of  the  old  Puri- 
tanic stock,  traveled,  or  else  transplanted  early  to  New 
York.  There  is  one  peculiarity  that  usually  marks  them 
most  repulsively  and  distinctly,  and  that  is  the  horrible 
wooden-ness  of  their  cadaverous  faces.  This,  however, 
has  a  cause,  nor  should  we  feel  it  right  that  it  should 
pass  without  apology.  They  were  not  born  so,  but  prob- 
ably were  ushered  into  the  world  with  as  good  faces  as 
juveniles  usually  have,  i.  e.,  they  looked  as  much  like 
puppies  or  monkeys  as  the  young  of  the  genuine  quadru- 
peds. The  face,  dear  readers,  is  a  matter  of  necessity. 
In  a  country  where  almost  every  man  born  out  of  a  large 
city  thinks  he  has  an  undoubted  right  to  inquire  into 
your  private  business,  spit  tobacco,  and  clean  his  finger 
nails,  and  blow  the  dust  into  your  face,  talk  politics  and 
religion,  and  drink  bad  liquor,  and  put  his  knife  in  his 
mouth  at  table,  these  poor  wooden  people  have  no  other 
defence  than  to  be  deaf,  dumb,  and  blind. 


LIFE  SKETCHES  OF    EMINENT    NEW  YORK 
PHYSICIANS. 


"  Black  spirits  and  white,  blue  spirits  and  grey, 
Mingle— mingle— mingle,  you  that  mingle  may." 

In  our  classification  of  the  brethren  in  the  last  num- 
ber, we  are  quite  aware  we  were  not  as  accurate  as  Cuvier, 
and  have  reason  to  believe  we  omitted  several  species 
fairly  entitled  to  notice  ;  we  assure  our  medical  friends, 
it  was  from  no  unconsciousness  of  their  merits,  but  from 
pure  forgetfulness.  In  our  present  effort,  we  shall  endea- 
vor to  supply  the  omission  with  descriptions  of  such 
individual  specimens  only,  as  are  deserving  of  notice, 
having  included  the  balance  of  the  genera  and  species, 
in  an  article  on  the  Medical  Infusoria — for  our  next. 

The  Ursa  Major  (the  late  Dr.  Francis)  is  entitled  to  our 
first  attention,  not  only  from  the  prominence  of  his  posi- 
tion as  the  late  President  of  the  Academy  of  Medicine, 
but  from  that  uniform  kindness  and  excellence  of  heart 
that  make  him  beloved  wherever  he  is  known.  Should 
the  doctor  think  we  are  taking  an  odd  method  of  prov- 
ing our  esteem  by  exposing  some  of  his  innocent  pecu- 
liarities, we  can  only  assure  him  that  he  pays  the  forfeit 
of  his  irresistible  drollery.  Like  the  Laplander,  who 
proves  "by  thumps  upon  your  back  how  he  esteems 
your  merit,"  or  the  grizzly  bear  himself,  who  gives  you 
perhaps  a  gentle  hug,  and  then  quits  you  for  more  entic- 
ing game,  we  are  only  following  out  our  nature  ;  a  laugh- 


EMINENT  NEW  YOEK    PHYSICIANS.  179 

ing  philosopher  is  our  admiration,  and  we  honestly  believe 
a  chat  with  our  bear,  even  at  the  risk  of  a  hug,  is  worth 
all  the  physic  in  his  wallet.  Let  us  attempt  a  sketch  as 
we  first  saw  him  in  the  very  zenith  of  his  reputation, 
when  old  Rutgers  College — our  venerable  Alma  Mater  in 
Duane  Street — was  in  full  blast,  making  doctors  by  the 
hundred,  its  guns  manned  with  Mott,  Bushe,  Hosack, 
Macnevin,  the  Ursa  Major,  and  Griscom,  and  firing  away 
at  the  old  battery  in  Barclay  Street. 

Five  feet  seven  or  eight  inches  ;  figure  well  set  and  of 
equal  dimensions  ;  glorious  forehead  ;  massive  nose,  de- 
noting great  generosity  and  intellectual  vigor  ;  large  grey 
eyes,  covered  with  gold  spectacles  ;  powerful  and  sensual 
mouth,  showing  a  high  degree  of  animal  life,  and  a  per- 
fect ability  to  appreciate  good  cheer  ;  hair  grizzled,  and 
radiating  from  the  forehead,  whence,  and  likewise  from 
some  other  peculiarities,  the  name,  Ursa  Major. 

Scene  first :  Dr.  Bushe  and  Dr.  Francis  alternately 
officiating  in  examining  the  students.  Thirty  pupils 
present — ourselves  entering  very  late  ;  the  professor 
examining  the  class.     On  opening  the  door,  and  entering, 

an  awful  look  through  the  glasses — "Mr.  D ,  who 

discovered  the  thoracic  duct  ?"  Answer,  "  Pecquet ; " 
and,  in  a  louder  voice — "  "Who  discovered  the  lacteals  ?  " 
(See  our  article  on  Purgatives.)  Answer,  "Assellius." 
Professor  (sotto  voce,  yet  loud  enough  to  be  heard  all  over 
the  room  :)  "  The  devil !  Professor  Porson  the  second!  " 
— no  more  questions  to  us  at  that  time  ;  if  there  had 
been,  we  should  have  been  shorn  of  our  honors  ;  for  it  so 
happened  we  were  just  from  an  indolent  loll  over  our 
classical  dictionary,  where  all  the  doings  of  the  defunct 
worthies  were  posted  up.  The  questioning  was  continued 
where  it  was  left  off  on  our  entrance,  with  a  southern 
pupil,  and  we  had  leisure  to  make  our  observations  on  our 


180  LIFE   SKETCHES  OF 

friend.  It  was  soon  evident  that  nature  had  given  him  a 
temperament  equal  to  his  body,  and  Caliban  himself  might 
have  envied  him  that.  Glancing  his  eye  over  his  specta- 
cles anon  on  this  side  and  that,  lite  a  buffalo  chafed  by  the 
hunter,  he  seemed  every  moment  ready  to  gore  some 
unfortunate  wight  who  should  fail  to  answer  ;  yet  believe 
us,  reader,  this  peculiar  manner  covered  a  heart  full  of 
the  warmest  and  kindliest,  sympathy,  and  a  head  replete 
with  knowledge.  Alas !  none  can  know  how  much  there 
is  to  produce  a  repulsive  manner,  in  a  man  whose  thoughts 
are  occupied  with  far  other  things  than  the  foolish  ques- 
tions of  the  ill-educated  student,  or  nervous  invalid.  No 
man  was  ever  more  attentive  to  his  patient,  none  had  a 
readier  word  of  sympathy,  a  kindlier  jest,  or  a  more  side- 
splitting anecdote,  than  the  Ursa  Major  ;  and  none  more 
willingly  relieved  the  pecuniary  wants  of  a  patient,  and 
that  in  a  manner  so  full  of  the  milk  of  human  kindness 
and  gentleness,  that  the  donor  always  managed  to  leave 
the  obligation  on  his  side. 

Our  next  interview  was  in  the  library  ;  the  doctor  was 
indulging  in  his  favorite  beverage  of  green  tea,  and  re- 
galias, puffing  and  sipping  away  with  infinite  relish,  and 
we  were  immersed  in  the  quaint  writings  of  some  anti- 
quated old  quid,  when  a  thundering  rap  announced  a  vis- 
itor. Starting  from  his  seat,  the  professor  sprang  into 
the  middle  of  the  floor,  and  was  soon  clasped  in  the  arms 
of  the  Phenomenon ! — that  wonderful  little  gentleman  had 
just  arrived  from  Paris,  dressed  in  the  latest  extreme, 
filled  with  all  the  knowledge  of  the  French  capital,  and 
puffing  and  blowing  like  a  speckled  frog.  Then  began 
a  scene  we  shall  never  forget.  The  professor,  always 
ready  for  sport,  actually  spinning  round  on  his  feet  as 
on  a  pivot,  with  the  body  of  the  Phenomenon  grasped 
tightly  to  his  massive  chest,  and  the  legs  of  the  little  man 


EMINENT  NEW  YORK  PHYSICIANS.  181 

making  a  radius  as  they  flew  round,  -while  the  words,  half 
smothered,  ever  and  anon  found  vent — "Oh!  my  dear 

Doctor  F !  mon  cher  Paris !    Dupuytren !   Lisfranc ! 

Boyer !  Roux !  Larrey !  and  all  the  glorious  constella- 
tion of  worthies !     Dear  Doctor  F ,  I  will  tell  you 

all  only  give  me  time.  You  know  nothing — you  can 
know  nothing.  They  know  everything.  Old  things  are 
done  away,  and  all  things  are  become  new.  Oh!  mon 
cher  Paris ! "  Thus  the  little  man  continued  raving,  al- 
ternately extending  his  arms  toward  "  mon  cher  Paris," 
and  looking  round  upon  the  Ursa  Major's  elegant  library 
with  infinite  contempt,  assuring  him  in  the  most  amia- 
ble manner  it  was  all  trash,  and  advising  him  at  once  to 
sell  out,  and  go  to  Paris.  It  is  impossible  to  convey  the 
expression  of  the  doctor's  countenance  at  this  rhapsody ! 
It  actually  outdid  himself,  as  we  subsequently  learned — 
though  that  is  saying  a  great  deal,  for  the  doctor  is  high 
pressure  even  yet,  and  the  scene  we  describe  is  thirty 
years  ago.  He  seemed  to  enjoy  it  hugely.  After  half 
an  hour's  quizzing  as  he  only  could  quiz,  the  professor 
accompanied  the  Phenomenon  to  the  front  door,  and  re- 
turned to  the  library  with  an  expression  of  countenance 
exquisitely  comical  He  drew  up  in  front  of  the  glass, 
and  addressed  his  reflection  with  infinite  gravity,  and  in 
a  stentorian  voice,  utterly  regardless  of  our  presence— 

"  Dr.  F ,  you  poor,  old,  miserable  devil !  sell  out  your 

traps,  and  all  your  musty  old  books ;  go  to  Paris — and 
drink  at  the  fountain  of  knowledge  till  your  soul  is  slaked 
with  the  divine  influence.  For  shame,  you  poor  misera- 
ble old  wretch,  to  sit  here,  while  the  very  effulgence  of 
science  irradiates— mon  cher  Paris !  (mimicking  the  Phe- 
nomenon)— and  a  stray  comet  has  shot  off  from  the 
glorious  constellation  and  alighted  in  this  benighted  hem- 
isphere," etc.     All  who  know  the  professor's  gift,  or  have 


182  LIFE   SKETCHES  OP 

seen  him  on  his  high  horse,  will  appreciate  the  style  in 
which  he  went  over  this  rhapsody.  Then  turning  to 
us  with  great  seriousness,  and  looking  over  his  specta- 
cles, assured  us  we  enjoyed  in  his  office  a  fine  opportuni- 
ty to  study  the  various  temperaments,  and  advised  us 
to  neglect  no  opportunity  of  improving  ourselves  in  that 
necessary  professional  accomplishment. 

It  was  not  long  before  we  found  out  the  many  pecu- 
liarities of  our  kind  preceptor,  and  learned  to  appreciate 
his  excellent  heart.  We  will  relate  some  more  of  them 
at  a  future  time.  The  Ursa  Major  has  a  keen  perception 
of  the  ludicrous,  and  an  exquisite  ability  to  enjoy  humor. 
Dean  Swift  never  said  better  things  than  we  have  heard 
from  his  lips  again  and  again  ;  he  is  indeed  a  fine  exam- 
ple of  the  old  school ;  long  may  he  enjoy  the  reputation 
for  learning,  wit,  and  benevolence  he  so  well  deserves, 
not  forgetting  his  green  tea  and  cigar. 

But  who  was  he  with  coat  of  formal  cut  and  white  or 
yellow  vest,  and  neckcloth  of  exquisite  tie,  yellow  breech- 
es, and  top-boots,  oh !  so  brilliant !  and  hair  and  whiskers 
trimmed  and  brushed  with  the  utmost  nicety,  descend- 
ing the  steps  of  his  mansion  precisely  at  nine  o'clock, 
A.  M.,  and  planting  his  feet  with  mathematical  precision, 
each  in  the  appropriate  spot,  while  his  coachman  insen- 
sibly acquired  the  same  habits,  and  almost  his  master's 
walk?  Thus  continued  our  careful  preceptor,  patient- 
ly going  his  daily  rounds,  and  using  his  excellent  com- 
mon sense,  in  planning  and  performing  a  series  of  un- 
equaled  and  splendid  operations,  until  he  had  made 
himself  from  a  plain  country  lad,  the  most  distinguished 
surgeon  by  all  odds  in  the  country,  and  in  the  operative 
department  of  his  profession,  equal  if  not  superior  to  any 

in  the   world.     As  a  lecturer,  Dr.  M is  useful,  not 

brilliant.     He  indulges  in  much  repetition  ;  but  his  expe- 


EMINENT  NEW  YOBK  PHYSICIANS.  183 

rience  is  boundless,  and  he  always  speaks  the  truth — 
which  is  more  than  can  be  said  of  some  of  his  colleagues. 
He  has  built  up  his  own  reputation  by  the  exercise  of  his 
one  talent  in  the  good  old  way,  peculiar  to  the  sect  of 
which  he  was  a  member. 

-Our  description  of  the  doctor's  toilette  does  not  apply 
to  its  existing  state  ;  on  his  return  from  Paris,  his  well- 
preserved  and  athletic  figure  was  arrayed  in  the  habili- 
ments of  a  gentleman,  worn  in  a  manner  undistinguished 
from  others,  save  by  an  old  habit  of  solicitude  to  pre- 
serve the  unsullied  purity  and  folds  of  his  linen,  and 
those  absurd  appendages  of  that  most  unclassical  gar- 
ment, the  coat  tails.  May  our  careful  preceptor  long 
enjoy  his  well-earned  laurels  and  his  new  clothes. 

But  who  is  he  with  the  sepulchral  countenance,  and 
bent  figure,  wrapped  in  his  long-tailed  coat,  and  striding 
along  the  streets  with  eyes  intently  fixed  on  the  pave- 
ment, and  ideas  concentrated  on  some  new  problem, 
just  started  in  his  teeming  brain,  touching  the  "vital 
forces ; "  or  else  bestriding  a  beautiful  horse,  of  omin- 
ous blackness  ?  He  goes  daintily  along,  apparently  un- 
conscious of  the  load  of  wit  and  philosophy  he  carries, 
as  was  the  immortal  Rozinante  of  that  mirror  of  chivalry 
who  bestrode  her.  Oh !  but  the  doctor  is  a  philosopher  ; 
he  rarely  deigns  to  alight  upon  the  earth  in  his  sublime 
physiological  flights :  no  ground  tumbling  for  him ; 
he  prefers  the  lofty  ;  careering  amid  the  clouds  and  danc- 
ing upon  the  sunbeams  ;  he  believes  not  in  the  vile  doc- 
trine of  solidism — not  he  ;  the  blood,  in  his  opinion,  is  a 
very  wicked  thing,  to  be  got  rid  of  as  soon  as  possible  ; 
full  of  mysterious  dangers  and  pernicious  properties. 
The  doctor  is  also  anti-carnivorous  to  a  wonderful  degree  : 
the  smell  of  beef  never  disgraces  his  domicil ;  its  origin 
is  telluric,  and  agrees  not  with  his  meteoric  and  celestial 


184  LIFE    SKETCHES  OP 

views.  Upon  an  occasion  of  extreme  exhaustion,  after 
a  most  gratifying  indulgence  in  several  severe  bleedings, 
to  such  an  extent  that  he  was  forced  so  unwillingly  to 
the  recumbent  position  that  he  actually  lay  upon  the  floor, 
a  brother  professor,  of  opposite  sentiments,  urged  upon 
him  the  propriety  of  taking  a  little  "  nowishment ;  "  the 
learned  gentleman,  having  barely  strength  enough  to  raise 
his  head  like  one  of  those  unfortunate  turtles  we  see  on 
their  backs  at  the  doors  of  the  refectories,  replied  with 
great  indignation  as  he  essayed  again  to  remove  the  band- 
age and  abstract  a  little  more  of  the  pernicious  fluid,  the 
words  rattling  in  his  throat  from  pure  exhaustion,  "  Pro- 
fessor Pattison,  I  would  rather  die  a  victim  to  science  than 
be  saved  by  quackery."  Calomel  is,  with  the  professor, 
emphatically  the  bread  of  life,  and  with  the  aid  of  the  lan- 
cet, sufficient  in  his  view  to  starve  all  the  undertakers  in 
the  land,  while  arrow  root  is  fit  food  for  a  giant.  Yet 
with  all  his  peculiarities,  the  professor  is  a  sincere  and 
excellent  man  ;  and  absolutely  necessary  to  complete  an 
assortment  of  philosophers  ;  without  his  aid  the  medical 
reader  would  not  have  enjoyed  this  excellent  sketch. 
Surely  we  have  all  a  right  to  choose  our  own  doctors  and 
— butchers. 

Now  clear  the  course  ;  take  away  all  vile  odors,  outre 
spectacles,  whether  of  garment  or  physiognomy,  and  all 
other  unseemly  exhibitions,  while  we  sketch  the  admira- 
ble Crichton  of  elegant  and  polite  medical  literature  ;  A 
slight  figure,  plainly  and  unostentatiously  clad  in  black, 
without  an  ornament,  a  highly  nervous  temperament ; 
large  dark  eyes,  over-shadowed  by  a  classic  and  thought- 
ful brow,  and  a  well-balanced  brain,  his  other  features  of 
most  unsensual  character,  looking  as  though  the  physical 
man  was  kept  utterly  in  subservience  to  the  intellectual. 
An    eclectic    and   dilettante    philosopher   is   Professor 


EMINENT  NEW  YORK  PHYSICIANS.  185 

Dickson.  With  the  most  comprehensive  views  of  med- 
ical science,  and  the  greatest  industry  and  practical  ex- 
perience, he  is  evidently  painfully  aware  of  its  utter 
insufficiency  as  a  means  of  averting  the  results  of  univer- 
sal ignorance  and  the  countless  errors  of  life  ;  he  shows 
it  in  every  line  he  writes  and  word  he  utters.  There  is 
no  living  man  who  can  better  fill  his  station  as  Professor 
of  Medicine,  and  no  man  who  would  make  a  better  prac- 
titioner if  all  were  intellectual,  and  no  stupid  man  ever 
seriously  sick.  The  professor,  both  as  a  scholar  and  a 
man  of  the  mcst  delicate  perception  of  propriety,  is  fitter 
to  practice  medicine  in  the  valley  of  Rasselas,  or  in  hea- 
ven, than  in  New  York. 

Silence,  there,  ye  irreverent  crew.  Who  comes,  with 
measured  step  and  slow,  "in  customary  suit  of  solemn 
black  ?"  Methinks  he  is  about  to  open  a  protracted  meet- 
ing, as  he  produces  a  well-used  roll  of  manuscript,  and 
commences  a  disquisition  on  miasms,  so  ancient  that  its 
origin  is  lost  in  the  dark  ages.  Surely  it  must  have 
been  a  labor  of  love  to  concoct  it :  the  professor  re- 
turns year  after  year  to  the  darling  object  of  his  youth- 
ful affections.  "  Some  men  there  are,"  says  Bacon,  "  who 
upon  getting  a  favorite  idea  in  their  brains  it  is  produc- 
ed upon  all  occasions,  never  ceasing  to  keep  up  a  buzz- 
ing in  their  ears,  and  those  of  every  one  who  will  listen 
to  it."  It  is  curious  to  note  the  conduct  of  the  students 
as  the  mysterious  theory  is  unfolded  :  the  sophomore, 
fresh  from  the  lap-stone  or  the  plough,  strains  his  ears 
not  to  lose  a  word,  and  his  pen  catch  the  droppings  of 
the  philosopher,  while  the  senior  closes  his  book,  read- 
justs his  quid,  or  tests  the  temper  of  his  knife  upon  the 
bench  on  which  he  sits  ;  he  has  "  seen  the  elephant " 
before.  The  professor  proceeds  with  solemn  accent, 
weighing  out  his  words  with  such  deliberation  that  it  is 


LIFE   SKETCHES  OE 

evident  he  feels  their  value,  and  the  vast  intellectual 
effort  they  cost  him,  and  is  determined  that  all  who 
hear  him  shall  acknowledge  it ;  like  a  funeral  train  the 
lecture  proceeds.  The  professor  becomes  metaphysical ; 
he  arrives  at  that  stage  where  the  unfortunate  tyro  can 
no  longer  follow  him ;  "  where  entity  and  quiddity,  the 
ghosts  of  defunct  bodies,  fly."  "Proto-koino  miasma" 
—  a  solemn  pause — "  deuto-koino-miasma  "  — another — 
"  ideo-koino-miasma  "  — or  mist ;  the  unfortunate  stu- 
dent shuts  his  book  in  despair,  and  is  soon  summoned, 
to  his  great  relief,  to  the  class-room  of  the  dirty  professor, 
him  of  the  uncombed  hair,  well-dyed  finger  nails,  and 
stevedore  toilette.  But  of  him  hereafter ;  he  must  be 
cooked  by  himself. 

"Whoever  remembers  the  glorious  eye  and  superbly 
intellectual  face  of  George  Macartney  Bushe,  late  pro- 
fessor of  anatomy  in  the  former  Rutgers  Medical  College, 
will  not  be  surprised  to  know  that  we  should  often  fancy 
the  present  possessor  of  his  immortal  part — a  gray  eagle  ; 
he  used  playfully,  yet  eloquently  to  defend  the  doctrine 
of  the  sage  who  taught  that  the  souls  of  men  passed  into 
the  system  of  animals,  analogous  in  their  impulses  to 
those  who  sought  their  bodies  as  a  refuge,  when  their 
own  dissolved  in  death.  Standing,  as  is  often  our  wont, 
on  the  lofty  brow  of  the  palisades  that  skirt  the  western 
part  of  our  noble  Hudson,  just  above  the  village  of  Fort 
Lee,  we  have  often  fancied  we  could  see  the  flashing  eye 
of  our  lamented  friend  and  preceptor,  reflected  from  that 
of  the  monarch  bird,  as  we  almost  felt  the  breath  of  his 
dark  cleaving  wing,  as  he  sailed  below  the  cliff  and  o'er 
the  rolling  deep,  eager  to  drink  of  the  life's  blood  of  his 
palpitating  victim,  in  the  river  or  the  forest  beneath. 
Apply  not  the  latter  part  of  our  simile,  professionally, 
dear  reader,  to  our  departed  and  gifted  friend,  for  no 


EMINENT  NEW  YOEK  PHYSICIANS.  187 

man  was  ever  more  anxious  to  preserve  the  life  of  a 
patient,  which  his  matchless  skill  often  enabled  him  to 
do.  True  it  is,  that  during  the  early  part  of  his  short 
and  brilliant  career  in  this  city,  he  was  so  oppressed  with 
care  and  poverty,  that  his  naturally  irascible  temper 
often  made  him  seem  careless  of  others'  woes  and  suffer- 
ings, when  he  was  harassed  by  so  many  of  his  own  ;  but 
Bushe  had  a  kind  heart,  as  we  had  ample  occasion  to 
know,  for  we  more  than  once  saw  him  give  his  last  dol- 
lar to  a  pauper  on  whom  he  had  operated. 

Few  can  tell  the  effect  of  griping  poverty  and  gnawing 
care  upon  a  glorious  intellect,  aware  of  its  power  and 
ability  to  help  the  vulgar  creature,  conscious  of  nothing 
but  pain,  or  the  deprivation  of  sensual  pleasure,  and  the 
depth  of  a  well-filled  pocket ;  few  can  tell  the  gall  that 
rises  from  the  very  soul  and  often  overflows  the  lips, 
when  such  a  creature  ventures  to  use  the  power  his 
wealth  unfortunately  enables  him  to  exercise,  in  assign- 
ing a  position  to  a  man  whose  shoe-strings  it  would  be 
an  honor  for  him  to  tie.  And  when  compelled  by  dis- 
ease and  public  acclamation  to  admit  his  worth,  he  need 
not  be  surprised  if  he  often  experience  rudeness  in  place 
of  that  servility  he  has  been  accustomed  to  command 
from  his  intellectual  and  poverty-stricken  peers. 

Dr.  Bushe  came  from  Dublin  to  this  ciiy,  to  take  the 
chair  left  vacant  by  that  beloved  man,  the  late  John  D. 
Godman,  in  1829,  with  the  prestige  of  the  most  enthu- 
siastic letters  from  Charles  Bell,  Benjamin  Brodie,  and 
William  Lawrence.  We  entered  under  his  private  in- 
struction when  partner  with  Professor  John  W.  Francis. 
Three  courses  of  lectures  on  anatomy  in  Rutgers  College, 
and  almost  daily  office  lectures  on  surgery,  for  three 
years,  with  the  immense  number  of  operations  on  per- 
sons attracted  by  the  fame  of  the  operator,  gave  us  ample 


188  LIFE    SKETCHES  OP 

opportunity  to  estimate  his  great  eloquence  and  un- 
matched skill ;  yet  with  all  these  advantages,  for  five 
years  he  could  scarce  look  forward  to  anything  but  starv- 
ation. It  was  not  till  a  very  inconsiderable  .operation 
performed  on  a  popular  man,  that  he  became  at  all 
known,  or  sought  for  among  the  paying  circles. 

He  then  however  rose  very  rapidly  in  public  esteem, 
and  died  about  twenty  years  since,  like  our  own  beloved 
Godman,  of  consumption,  at  the  early  age  of  forty-three, 
in  the  full  tide  of  successful  practice.  As  we  followed 
the  body  to  its  quiet  resting-place  on  the  side  hill  west  of 
Jersey  City,  we  thought  of  that  flashing  eagle  eye  now 
closed  forever,  and  remembering  his  quaint,  playful,  yet 
eloquent  defence  of  the  doctrine  of  Metempsychosis,  the 
eye  insensibly  wandered  northwards,  "to  the  shattered 
point  of  that  shivered  peak,"  where  we  have  since  so  often 
fancied  we  saw  him  reflected  from  the  "  bird  that  never 
sleeps."  Alas !  how  vain  ;  the  earth  is  but  the  ashes  of 
the  dead ;  and  although  the  material  parts  of  the  body 
mingle  indiscriminately  from  every  division  of  the  animal 
kingdom,  every  aspiration  of  the  soul  proves  our  distinc- 
tive immortality.  That  all-powerful  fiat,  that  will  not 
allow  the  mingling  of  the  different  genera,  is  no  more 
imperative  in  its  action,  than  the  fact  that  man's  ultimate 
attraction  is  proportioned  to  his  immortal  destiny.  The 
same  beautiful  law  that  leads  the  glorious  reindeer  to 
love  the  simple  moss  and  icy  fastnesses  of  his  native 
region,  and  the  massive  elephant  the  varied  and  luxu- 
riant herbage  of  the  torrid  zone,  compels  us  to  believe 
that  man,  however  he  may  sever  for  a  time,  in  pursuit  of 
wealth,  the  attachments  to  his  native  land,  seeks  to  be 
re-united  with  those  he  has  loved  on  earth  before  his  eye 
closes  in  death  ;  therefore  his  soul  can  surely  only  dwell 
in  consciousness,  with  his  own  kindred  species  hereafter. 


EMINENT  NEW  YORK  PHYSICIANS.  189 

Dr.  Bushe  did  not  cultivate  the  attractions  of  profes- 
sional and  social  life  ;  he  saw  too  plainly  the  empty- 
pretensions  of  a  large  portion  of  the  profession,  to  toler- 
ate the  patronizing  air  which  the  brethren  love  to  assume 
toward  those  who  cannot  exist  in  an  atmosphere  fit  for 
their  feeble  and  selfish  souls.  His  manner  was  often  rude 
to  those  he  justly  believed  had  no  right  to  prefer  a  claim 
to  equality  ;  but  no  man  could  more  readily  appreciate 
industry  and  real  worth  ;  witness  his  long-continued 
attachment  to  the  lamented  Roe.  His  dying  moments 
were  disturbed  by  the  frequent  intrusion  of  an  imperti- 
nent creature  whose  passport  to  immortality  we  have 
made  out  in  this  number. 

This  singular  association,  he  would  often  break  up  in 
the  most  ludicrous  and  abrupt  manner ;  and  when  his 
desire  to  study  the  psychological  peculiarities  of  his  in- 
significant annoyer  allowed  his  cautious  re-approach,  we 
invariably  thought  of  that  inimitable  print  of  the  dozing 
mastiff  and  the  cur — called  "  Dignity  and  Impudence." 

Note.— The  reader  will  observe  that  we  have  permitted  all  these  sketches 
to  remain  as  they  were  written  during  the  lives  of  their  subjects.  All  but  Pro- 
fessors Payne  and  Dickson  are  now  dead. 


AN  ARTIST'S   REVERIE.-NO.   II. 


"Spirits  are  not  finely  touched,  but  to  fine  issues." 

Midnight — voiceless  and  ghostly  midnight — steals  up, 
and  still  the  artist  lingers  with  his  trance-like  dream ; 
but  the  utter  serenity  of  his  face  passes  away,  as  well  as 
the  death-like  repose  of  posture.  Now  he  shivers,  and 
his  flesh  creeps  to  and  fro,  as  the  comings  and  recedings 
of  the  tired  shore  wave ;  and  now  he  turns  paler  and 
paler,  and  his  features  sharpen,  by  the  race-imagina- 
tive and  the  cold-growing  air,  as  the  fire  dies  out,  all 
save  a  few  knot-wound  and  aged  coals. 

Hark  to  the  cry  of  the  rising  storm,  as  the  winds 
whistle  and  whine  and  shriek,  while  they  canter  up  from 
the  regions  of  the  northwest ;  see  the  tall  chimneys,  how 
they  see-saw,  and  have  their  caps  knocked  off,  and  their 
pipe-puffs  blown  back  into  the  mouth  ;  and  listen  to  the 
breeze  as  it  moans  like  the  moan  of  the  dog,  prophetic 
of  death.  Large  tears  fall  from  the  over-laden  clouds, 
and  tumble  through  miles  of  space  upon  the  copper- 
plated  roof,  with  a  patter  and  a  clatter  like  the  distant 
tramp  of  mailed  cavalry  ;  the  unbroken-mouthed  artillery 
of  heaven  talks  with  a  tongue  intensely  loud,  startling, 
fear-giving,  and  very  awful,  and  then  it  stops  to  listen  to 
its  own  magical  echo  ;  and  the  blindingly  brilliant  light- 
ning leaps  and  leaps,  at  intervals,  through  the  pitchy 
night,  splitting,  as  if  in  mere  sport,  rocks  and  temples 


an  artist's  reverie.  191 

and  the  human  structure  atwain.  Yet  this  grand  storm 
song,  sung  by  the  Almighty,  comes  but  whisperingly  to 
our  visionary's  ear,  and  simply  elicits  the  low  sigh,  the 
shiver,  and  the  slight  shift  of  bodily  position,  fascinated 
as  he  is  by  things  infinitely  more  grand,  dire,  transfixing 
and  sublime — he  sees  a  brother  murdering  a  brother,  and 
the  perpetration  of  the  first  unnatural  crime.     *     *     * 

The  Death  of  Abel. — "  With  God  is  terrible  majesty." — 
The  earth  appears  sterile,  stony,  and  unshrubbed — the 
sky  leadeny,  lurid,  and  near  by — ungainly  rocks  burst 
up  and  scatter — and  the  ground  here  and  there  yawns, 
and  shapes  the  frightful  precipice  and  black  abysm.     On 
a  declivity  lies  the  corpse  of  the  gentle  and  affectionate 
shepherd,  Abel,  with  a  handsomely  formed  and  youthful 
head  dangling  from  a  pillow  of  rough  stone — the  hair- 
locks  matted  and  extremely  astray — the  eyes  lidded  close, 
and  fastened  up  by  long,  silky,  and  golden  threads — the 
figure  so  carelessly  flung,  and  the  waxy,  ivorial  flesh  sur- 
face sprinkled,  and  occasionally  blotted  out,  by  the  yet 
freshly  shed  and  brilliantly-crimson  blood.     And  afar  off, 
in  the  gray  and  misty  light,  stands  a  figure  of  gigantic 
size — gigantic  chiefly  by  the  illusion  of  the  atmosphere, 
and  the  contraction  of  the  cloudy  earth  dome.     That  fig- 
ure is  Cain,  the  murderer  of  his  youthful,  gentle   and 
guileless  brother.     Mark  how  he  crouches  and  cowers, 
while  pallor  on  pallor  creeps  over  his  system,  and  his 
forehead  becomes  beaded  and  torn  up  by  a  coronal  of 
agony.     See  how  he  tries  to  persuade  himself  he  simply 
dreams,   and    thus   ventures    to    re-gaze,    first    at    his 
brother's  corpse,  and  then   sheer  up  into  the  heavenly 
face  of  God.     And  now  he  re-raves  and  groans,  oh,  so 
heart-rendingly !  and  tears  out  handful  after  handful  of 
his  magnificent  hair-locks,  and  his  eye-globes  seem  so 
wildly  dashing  against  their  bony  cells,  or  palsied  by 
9 


192  an  artist's  reverie. 

terrific  action  and  gushed-up-blood — blood  that  seems 
the  more  out  of  place  by  its  contrast  with  the  corpse-like 
pallor  of  the  encasing  cheeks.     And  now  he  seems  froz- 
enly  still,  in  a  stooping  attitude,  with  the  hands  clutching 
at  the  thighs,  and  the  finger  nails  deeply  buried  in  the 
thigh  flesh,  while  the  big  tears  burst  from  the  soul's 
fountain,  and  run  in  streams  over  the  racked  face,  and 
pour,  and  trickle,  and  drop  upon   the  knees,  feet,  and 
common  earth,  like   a   deluge  of  sin.     And  thus   Cain 
stood,  and  wept  and  wept  for  hours,  and  strove  frantic- 
ally to  open  the  gates  of  Hope,  and  when  he  found  his 
awful  task  fruitless,  he  met  Despair,  that  thorn  without 
its  rose,  that  crime  without  its  Christ !     Then  the  foun- 
tains of  the  river  soul  dried  up,  and  with  his  hands 
across  the  lid-closed  eyes,  Cain  flung  himself  prostrate  to 
the  earth,  face  adown,  thus  striving  to  somewhat  lessen 
the  horrors  of  the  encircling  scene  ;  but,  alas  for  him ! 
as  the  quieting  of  one  sense  only  quickens  some  other, 
so  this  eye-closing  only  made  the  heart  to  rush  madly 
and  more  madly  in  its  beat,  and  the  brain  to  wonder- 
fully see,  by  its  own  fire-light.     One  instant  he  was 
clasped  by  the  love-flung  arms  of  his  boy  brother,  and 
reposing  in  a  most  delicious  partnership  of  happiness 
and  joy  extreme  ;  while  in  the  next  he  was  a  creature, 
hopeless,   self-loathing,   colossally  criminal,  and  utterly 
abhorred  and  abandoned  by  heaven  and  earth ! 

Then  he  cursed  himself,  and  his  Maker,  and  his  myste- 
rious fate,  and  his  visage  loomed  up  grimly — desperation 
strode  over  it ;  the  complexion  became  swart  and  brazen, 
and  the  locks  of  hair  rose  proudly  and  erect,  and,  Medusa 
like,  seemed  all  alive  with  restless  coils  on  coils  of  ser- 
pents, breathing  flames  ;  and  the  brows  gathered  up 
about  the  eye-cornices  in  stern,  massy  and  richly  mod- 
eled folds  ;   the  nose  shrunk  back   toward  the  cheeks ; 


an  abtist's  reverie.  193 

the  mouth  assumed  the  firm  and  downward  set,  and  the 
eyes  seemed  cavernous,  tearless,  fire-gleaming,  and  sav- 
age in  expression,  while  the  nostrils  rose  and  fell  in  high 
action,  and  with  their  breath-play  in  perfect  harmony 
with  that  of  the  magnificent  and  spacious  chest ;  and 
Cain  now  stood  erect  and  daringly,  his  system  being 
again  well  strung,  as  remorse  had  almost  died  away. 
And  then  again,  even  at  that  late  hour,  his  memory  re- 
drew the  picture  of  his  strange  career,  and  he  gasped 
out  entreaty  after  entreaty  to  the  Almighty  to  take  the 
erring  wanderer  back  to  a  state  of  purity ;  and  then  he 
listened  and  listened,  but  in  vain,  for  a  response — his  sin- 
wail  found  no  mate,  no  sympathetic  echo. 

A  death-like  stillness  pervaded  all  things — not  a  tongue 
ventured  to  cross  the  path  of  the  Genius  of  Evil,  not 
even  the  faint  twit  of  the  swallow,  or  the  murmur  of  the 
reed.  But  there  did  arise,  in  the  gloomy  voice-hush, 
phantoms — tall,  shadowy,  giant  phantoms,  that  stalked 
by  in  the  shape  of  Want,  Drunkenness,  Theft,  Prostitu- 
tion and  Suicide,  and  many  a  group  of  Hell's  grand 
inquisitors. 

Then  these  aerial  actors  vanished,  and  the  fratricide 
setting  his  teeth  in  strong  lock,  and  spurring  himself  for- 
ward, bade  a  long  farewell,  if  not  an  eternal  one,  to  all 
his  treasures  ;  so  he  raised  up  Abel's  corpse  with  tender 
touch — oh,  so  tenderly! — and  closely  clasped  it  in  the 
arms  of  a  most  wonderful  love  ;  and  he  played  with  the 
luxuriant  and  silky  tresses,  smoothing  and  resmoothing 
them,  and  arranging  them  in  various  ways  ;  and  then  he 
kissed  and  rekissed  the  icy,  senseless,  purple  lips,  and 
placid  brow.  And  he  wandered  wildly  about,  to  and  fro, 
and  in  a  circle,  still  hugging  and  caressing  his  load  of  lost 
and  unlost  affection,  pride,  pleasure  and  peace,  blended 
with  a  terrific  guilt  and  dread.     When,  lo!  the  cloudy 


194  an  artist's  reverie. 

ceiling  of  the  earth  opened,  a  blinding  light  sprung 
through,  and  the  Lord  God  wrote  on  the  criminal's  brow, 
in  letters  of  never-dying  fire,  the  name  of  Satan.  "  The 
heavens  were  stretched  out  like  a  curtain.  They  that  did 
feed  delicately  are  desolate  in  the  streets.  They  that 
were  brought  up  in  scarlet,  embrace  dunghills.  Hands 
shall  be  feeble,  and  all  knees  weak  as  water." 

And  now,  wafted  from  Satan's  embrace,  and  borne  in 
the  arms  of  a  group  of  heaven's  angels,  may  be  seen  the 
ascending  corpse  of  the  youthful  shepherd  ;  while  Satan, 
stark  alone,  feels  quite  refreshed  and  sleepless,  and  the 
surrounding  air  rings  and  rings  with  his  sardonic  laugh- 
ter. Why,  reader,  starvation  sometimes  laughs,  and  so 
does  overthrown  reason,  and  the  suicide  when  about  to 
jump  from  the  death-inflicting  precipice,  and  the  Indian 
when  he  dashes  out  the  brain  of  the  infant  enemy !  Why, 
judges  laugh  sardonically  as  they  pocket  their  bribes,  and 
consign  the  god-like  spirits  of  Truth  and  Justice  to  the 
dungeon.  Millions  of  your  own  species  cower  before  the 
frown  of  those  gigantic  monsters,  Church  and  State, 
while  they  only  laugh  sardonically  at  that  of  the  Builder, 
Owner  and  Sovereign  of  the  whole  Universe ! 


A  VISION   OF   THE   DAMNED. 


WHAT  BECOMES  OP  THE  DOCTORS  AND  APOTHECARIES  WHEN  THEY  DIET 


It  is  curious  what  visions  come  to  us  when  the  mind 
is  disturbed  by  anxiety,  and  we  wander  in  the  regions  of 
dream-land.  A  few  weeks  since,  having  occasion  to 
spend  the  night  in  attendance  on  a  fair  patient,  we  re- 
tired to  an  adjoining  room  in  a  beautiful  villa  near  the 
city ;  whether  it  was  a  very  late  dinner,  or  anxiety  for 
our  patient,  an  occasional  groan  from  whose  chamber 
reached  our  ears,  we  know  not,  but  sleep  played  bo-peep 
with  us  that  night,  and  left  some  intervals  of  semi-con- 
sciousness, filled  with  odd  vagaries  not  very  comforting 
as  it  regards  the  future.  I  dreamed  that  I  had  found  my 
way  at  midnight  into  a  fashionable  drug-store  in  Broad- 
way, in  search  of  a  little  morphine  to  quiet  my  patient's 
nerves  ;  the  apothecary,  on  learning  the  simplicity  and 
cheapness  of  my  purchase,  received  me  with  no  special 
amiability — indeed,  I  am  obliged  to  confess,  I  am  no 
favorite  with  that  class  of  my  fellow-citizens,  whom  I 
have  heard  on  fitting  occasions  make  no  secret  of  their 
benevolence  in  consigning  me  to  a  climate  considerably 
warmer  than  my  physiological  necessities  require.  He 
made  no  reply  to  my  apology  for  disturbing  him,  but 
served  me  in  silence,  and  retired  doggedly  to  his  cham- 
ber in  the  back-room.  No  sooner  did  the  door  close 
behind  him,  leaving  me,  as  my  dream  ran,  still  in  the 


196  A  VISION  OF  THE  DAMNED. 

shop,  than  I  was  witness  to  a  scene  I  shall  never  forget. 
A  terrible  commotion  commenced  jn  all  the  bottles,  as 
was  visible  from  the  agitation  of  their  contents  ;  the  stop- 
pers bobbed  up  and  down,  "salt  mouths  and  species" 
rattled,  the  covers  of  gallipots  danced,  smothered  cries 
came  forth  from  every  drawer,  and  deep  groans  issued 
from  the  cellar.     Whilst  I  stood  in  horror  and  amaze- 
ment, wondering  what  all  this  could  mean,  I  was  start- 
led by  a  distinctly  articulate  cry,  "  Let  me  go !  let  me  go ! 
I  will  tear  out  his  heart  and  pulverize  his  bones,  if  I  can 
get  at  him — the  infernal  fiend,  with  his  long  nose  and 
hickory  face  ;  let  me  go !  let  me  go !"     Another  and  an- 
other yelled  out,  and  all  their  vengeance  was  directed  at 
me,  as  was  now  evident  enough,  because  various  allusions 
were  made  to  the  Scalpel  and  its  editor,  all  coupled  with 
the  hardest  kind  of  expletives.     I  now  clearly  saw  the 
faces  of  the  speakers,  and  recognized  many  of  them,  as 
each  one  popped  up  from  his  especial  bottle  or  gallipot, 
as   defunct   apothecaries — some   of  them   very  eminent 
ones,   and  formerly   well  known    hereabouts ;   most  of 
them  brandishing  in  their  bony  hands  a  pestle  or  a  sharp 
spatula.     "Why  they  couldn't  get  out  of  their  respective 
bottles  was  not  apparent,  until  a  dialogue  of  extraordi- 
nary energy  occurred  between  a  very  eminent  apothecary, 
we  used  to  trot  out  years  ago  in  our  pages,  and  his  jailer, 
whose  writhing  and  serpentine  form  I  now  plainly  saw 
at  the  bottom  of  a  large  bottle  of  alcohol,  with  his  snaky 
coils  wound  round  the  poor  apothecary's  legs;  the  conclu- 
sion was  not  very  comforting  to  my  future  prospects :  ' '  Let 
him  alone  ;  it  will  be  his  turn  by  and  by,  and  he'll  be 
put  into  a  bottle  of  aqua  ammonia."     This  consoled  me 
a  little,  however,  for  I  really  thought  it  would  not  be  so 
very  uncongenial  as  his  majesty's  imp  imagined.     I  was 
getting  weary  of  the  scene  of  strife  and  discord,  when  it 


A.  VISION   OF  THE  DAMNED.  %  197 

lulled  for  a  moment,  and  I  had  a  chance  to  hear  what  was 
going  on  in  the  cellar.  The  groans  had  assumed  the 
character  of  articulate  speech,  and  to  my  great  horror  I 
heard  enough  to  convince  me  that  the  speakers  were  sur- 
geons and  doctors,  evidently  in  no  very  comfortable 
condition.  I  thought  I  could  recognize  the  voices  of 
some  old  stagers  I  used  to  see  when  a  student,  going  it 
round  the  city  in  their  carriages,  with  their  sponges, 
catlings,  and  scalpels.  I  was  rather  annoyed  at  this  dis- 
covery of  the  disposition  of  my  defunct  brethren,  for  I 
never  believed  the  real  devil  would  be  so  foolish  as  to 
accommodate  them  in  his  dominions,  and  used  to  comfort 
myself  with  the  idea  that  they  were  let  go  scot  free  here- 
after. Notwithstanding  this  unpleasant  discovery,  I  was 
amused  at  the  grotesque  appearance  of  a  miserable  old 
creature,  who  sat  with  his  legs  crossed,  smoking  a  long 
German  pipe  and  drinking  lager  bier  in  a  corner  of  the 
shop.  He  wore  a  superbly-flowered  silk  gown,  shorts 
and  knee-buckles,  with  great  diamond  buckles  in  his 
shoes,  a  smoking  cap  and  long  gold  tassel.  Notwith- 
standing all  this  apparent  comfort  and  display,  he  kept 
changing  his  position  and  rubbing  his  glutsei  muscles, 
and  continually  exclaimed  ;  "  O  mein  Gott !  mein  Gott  I 
das  is  nicht  goot,  nicht  goot !"  On  looking  more  closely, 
I  perceived  that  he  sat  on  a  lump  of  borax !  some  of 
which  he  had  evidently  been  pulverizing,  for  several  frag- 
ments lay  about,  and  he  had  a  mortar  and  pestle  on  a 
block  near  him.  The  thought  instantly  struck  me ;  it 
was  old  Hahnemann,  and  this  was  his  punishment  for 
selling  borax  as  a  newly  discovered  cure-all  to  his  dupes 
in  Germany.  A  heap  of  guineas  lay  near  him,  which  j 
could  not  account  for  ;  whilst  I  was  speculating  on  their 
use,  the  veritable  old  devil,  with  horns,  hoofs  and  all, 
came  up  from    the    cellar    through  a  trap-door,   and 


198  A  VISION   OF  THE  DAMNED. 

approaching  the  old  man,  saluted  him  with  apparent 
civility  ;  he  replied  with  a  grunt,  and  cast  a  look  of  hor- 
ror at  a  cup  which  the  devil  took  out  of  his  pocket  and 
poured  into  it  some  liquid  brimstone  ;  then,  taking  a 
heaping  spoonful  of  the  borax  from  the  mortar,  he  stir- 
red them  together  with  his  finger,  and  presented  it  to  the 
old  quack,  with  a  look  of  mock  sympathy  ;  with  a  horri- 
ble grimace  he  gulped  it  down  ;  the  devil  then  took  up 
a  guinea  and  put  it  in  his  pocket — this  was  the  price  the 
old  man  used  to  charge  for  his  nostrum  when  on  earth, 
and  judging  from  the  look  of  anguish  he  cast  on  it,  as  it 
disappeared  in  the  devil's  vest-pocket,  it  was  the  climax 
of  his  punishment.  The  devil  apologized  for  the  lateness 
of  the  hour,  assuring  him  that  the  morning  dose  should 
not  be  forgotten  ;  he  had  been  engaged  till  quite  late,  in 
the  cellar,  making  arrangements  to  accommodate  a  cele- 
brated surgeon,  who  had  just  arrived  from  earth,  and 
who  on  examination  proved  to  be  guilty  of  administering 
great  quantities  of  medicine,  and  receiving  a  per  centage 
from  the  apothecary.  He  had  placed  him  in  a  carboy  of 
dilute  sulphuric  acid,  and  allowed  occasional  breathing 
time,  when  he  was  to  be  regaled  with  a  sniff  of  assafce- 
tida  as  a  refresher,  till  he  got  used  to  it.  This  class,  the 
devil  remarked,  used  to  give  him  great  trouble  till  the 
publication  of  the  Scalpel,  since  which  they  have  consider- 
ably diminished,  only  an  occasional  old  stager  now 
arriving.  It  was  now  getting  late,  and  as  the  devil  had 
not  perceived  me,  in  consequence  of  my  keeping  shady 
behind  the  door  during  his  interview  with  old  Hahne- 
mann, I  took  advantage  of  his  departure  into  the  back- 
room to  confer  with  the  apothecary,  to  slip  out  into  the 
street. 

I  felt  the  delightful  breeze,  laden  with  the  perfume  of 
the  honeysuckles  which  draped  my  windows,  and  awoke  ; 


A  VISION  OF  THE  DAMNED.  199 

stealing  on  tip-toe  to  the  bedside  of  my  lovely  patient,  I 
found  her  asleep,  thanks  to  that  beneficent  gift  of  heaven, 
morphine.  The  exhausting  pains  were  stilled,  and  a 
smile,  sweet  as  if  dropped  by  an  angel's  wing,  told  that 
she  dreamed  of  her  first-born. 
9* 


TOBACCO-ITS    INFLUENCE    ON    THE    BODY 
AND  MIND. 


The  influence  of  Tobacco  on  the  bodily  and  mental 
condition  of  American  young  men  has  long  furnished  an 
ample  theme  for  the  moralist  and  physiologist ;  but  for 
reasons  not  very  creditable  to  his  heart  or  his  head,  the 
practical  physician  and  surgeon  has  for  the  most  part 
held  his  peace.  It  would  have  been  much  more  credita- 
ble to  the  "  American  Medical  Association,**  if,  instead  of 
their  silly  discussions  on  medical  ethics,  and  other  wordy 
absurdities,  and  their  quarrels  about  cutting  out  jaw- 
bones, they  had  given  our  young  men  a  correct  idea  of 
the  actual  power  of  this  giant  enemy  to  destroy  their 
manly  character,  and  debase  and  stupefy  their  minds  and 
bodies.  As  we  are  not  trammelled  by  the  fear  of  the 
frowns  of  our  dear  brethren,  nor  the  loss  of  "  patronage," 
we  propose  to  give  our  readers  the  results  of  our  obser- 
vation of  its  power  over  the  organism,  during  thirty-five 
years  of  practical  observation  on  the  young  men  of  this 
city. 

No  man  likes  to  hear  his  follies  held  up  to  public  view. 
"We  therefore  expect  for  this  service  a  full  measure  of 
abuse.  We  received  an  ample  return  of  that  kind  for 
the  article  on  Lager-bier,  for  which  we  are  duly 
thankful ;  a  contemporary  says  we  "  would  rather  be  in  a 
minority  than  a  majority" — truth  to  say,  we  plead 
guilty ;  for  most  of  our  profession  are  accustomed  to 


TOBACCO.  201 

speak  so  charily  of  the  vices  of  their  "  patients,"  in  con- 
sequence of  their  profound  reverence  for  their  pockets, 
that  we  have  imbibed  a  great  disgust  for  them  :  we  take 
comfort  from  the  conviction  that  we  shall  be  soundly 
abused  by  a  large  class  of  our  tobacco-smitten  fellow- 
citizens,  and  approved  by  at  least  a  decent  majority. 

Let  us  attempt  to  give  tobacco  its  actual  position  as  an 
agent  amongst  the  catalogue  of  articles  we  take  our  into 
much-abused  mouths.  It  is  neither  food  nor  drink — 
that's  clear  ;  lager-bier,  bad  as  it  is,  is  in  one  sense  food, 
because  it  supplies  material  for  feeding  the  lungs.  "With- 
out its  use,  the  body  would  demand  that  its  victims 
should  eat  more,  or  else  grow  thin  by  the  absorption  of 
their  fat  and  muscle  to  supply  material  for  combustion  ; 
for  the  lungs  are  like  a  stove — they  must  be  supplied 
with  fuel,  or  the  fire  will  go  out. 

Tobacco  is  a  great  demander  of  drink,  because  it  con- 
stantly robs  the  body  of  its  fluids  by  expectoration. 
Lager-bier  supplies  fluid  at  least,  although  it  is  depos- 
ited about  the  system  in  form  very  much  like  a  beer- 
barrel,  and  gives  its  votaries  a  great  deal  of  trouble  to 
puff  it  away,  and  rid  themselves  of  it  by  other  unseemly 
and  inopportune  processes. 

"What,  then,  is  tobacco?  Why,  simply  a  narcotic— 
that  is,  (see  the  dictionary,)  "a  stupefier — a  deadener  of 
nervous  and  muscular  energy!"  If  any  man  disputes 
this,  and  asserts  that  he  finds  himself  more  capable  of 
intellectual  or  muscular  effort  when  he  has  a  quid  in  his 
mouth,  we  congratulate  him  on  his  improved  astuteness  ; 
we  may  betray  our  own  want  of  the  precious  intellectual 
quickener,  but  we  will  venture  the  question  :  How  much 
did  it  sharpen  your  logic-chopper  when  you  took  the  first 
quid  ?  And  how  majestically  did  you  stand  on  your  legs 
when  you  first  felt  its  full  effect  ? 


202  TOBACCO. 

Every  one  must  remember  the  first  effect  of  tobacco. 
Nausea,  vertigo,  vomiting,  and  relaxation  of  the  entire  mus- 
cular system,  are  its  invariable  effects  ;  and  if  continued, 
relaxation  of  all  the  sphincter  or  closing  muscles  of  the  hol- 
low viscera,  bowels,  bladder,  and  stomach.  This  result  is 
sometimes  sought  for  by  the  surgeon,  and  produced  by 
injecting  an  infusion  of  tobacco  into  the  bowels,  in  cases 
of  obstinate  constipation,  or  for  relaxing  the  grip  of  the 
openings  in  the  abdomen,  when  the  bowel  slips  through 
them  in  those  who  have  rupture.  We  have  seen  the  con- 
sequences in  our  own  practice  so  awful  from  a  very  weak 
injection,  which  we  administered  to  avoid  the  necessity 
of  operating  by  the  knife,  that  we  resolved  never  to  use 
it  again. 

Now,  the  reader  will  please  to  remember  that  all  the 
symptoms  he  first  experiences  from  tobacco,  are  the 
invariable  results  upon  a  natural  or  healthy  condition  of 
the  body  ;  and  if  he  succeed,  by  perseverance  in  its  use, 
in  overcoming  the  immediate  consequences,  it  is  only 
because  the  alarmed  and  abused  nerves  have  summoned 
the  forces  of  youthful  vigor  to  bear  the  invasion  as  long 
as  possible  before  they  capitulate.  Breath,  food,  and 
drink  are  the  means  of  resistance,  and  the  besotted  youth 
soon  discovers  that  the  quantity  of  the  latter  must  be 
increased,  and  its  quality  strengthened,  if  he  would  re- 
sist the  invader  and  continue  to  perform  his  ordinary- 
duties  without  showing  plainly  his  incapacity  to  stand 
upon  his  legs.  Thus  it  is  that  tobacco,  either  used  by 
smoking  or  chewing,  is  the  direct  introduction  to  drunken- 
ness. 

Our  remarks  apply  in  a  much  more  forcible  manner  to 
smoking  than  to  chewing.  Some  people  are  so  silly  as 
to  suppose,  because  they  do  not  spit  whilst  smoking,  that 
no  harm  can  ensue  ;  but  they  should  remember  that  the 


TOBACCO.  203 

oil  of  tobacco,  which  contains  the  deadly  nicotine,  (equal- 
ly deadly   and  almost  as  rapid  in  its  action  as  strych- 
nine,)   is  volatilized,   and    circulates  with    the    smoke 
through  the  delicate  lining  membrane  of  the  mouth  at 
each  whiff  of  the  cigar,  and  is  absorbed  by  the  extensive 
continuation  of  this  membrane  that  lines  the  nostrils, 
and  acts  upon  the  whole  body.     The  smoke  of  tobacco  is 
indeed  much  more  rapid  in  its  stupefying  effect,  as  every 
professed  smoker  knows  ;  it  is  usually  called  "  soothing  " 
by  its  votaries  ;  but  this  is,  of  course,  only  the  first  stage 
of  stupefaction  ;  it  acts  precisely  as  opium  or  other  nar- 
cotics do.     Moreover,  the  reader  will  observe  that  the 
older  physicians  used  to  throw  the  smoke  of  tobacco  into 
the   intestines,  when  they  sought  its  terribly  relaxing 
effects  on  the  body  in  rupture  or  constipation   of  the 
bowels,  or  for  reducing  dislocation.     Nicotine  was  the 
awful  agent  chosen  by  Bocarme  for  poisoning  his  brother- 
in-law  a  few  years  since  in  Belgium,  because  it  killed  and 
left  no  sign  whereby  to  convict  him.     At  each  whiff  of 
smoke,  it  is  known  that  a  good  portion  of  a  large  drop  of 
the  oil  of  tobacco  circulates  through  the  mouth  ;  we  have 
often  seen  it  blown  out  of  the  mouth  and  condensed  on 
the  thumb-nail,  by  men  who  had  the  ability  to  contract 
the  lips  to  an  opening  sufficiently  small  for  that  purpose. 
Five   drops  of  the  oil  of  tobacco  will  kill  a  large  dog. 
The  throat  often  becomes  excessively  dry  and  irritable  in 
smokers,  and  there  is   a  morbid  thirst  produced  that 
greatly  debilitates  digestion,  by  diluting  too   much  the 
fluids  of  the  stomach — robbed,  also,  of  its  healthful  saliva 
by  the  spitting. 

But  there  are  other  and  far  more  mortifying  and  dis- 
astrous effects  following  the  use  of  cigars.  There  is  a 
law  of  the  system,  which,  in  a  great  number  of  cases, 
ensures  similar  morbid  results  to  similar  structures  of  the 


204  TOBACCO. 

human  body.  The  lining  membrane  of  the  urethra  is 
very  similar  in  its  structure  to  that  of  the  mouth.  Here 
the  use  of  tobacco  is  followed  by  the  most  distressing 
consequences  ;  it  is  impossible  to  particularize  these  in 
this  place.  They  are  almost  invariable  in  delicate  per- 
sons, from  even  moderate  smoking.  The  morbid  and 
absurd  fastidiousness  of  too  many  readers  would  pervert 
the  object  of  the  most  refined  and  delicate  teacher  ; 
many  of  our  readers  have  very  absurd  ideas  of  propriety. 
"We  can  only  say  in  this  place  that  the  morbid  irritability 
on  the  mucous  lining  of  the  urethra,  and  the  fearful  pros- 
tration of  the  lower  parts  of  the  body  and  extremities, 
produced  by  the  action  of  tobacco  on  the  spinal  nerves, 
have  often  induced  the  doubt  whether  its  use,  and  some 
other  revolting  vices,  were  not  the  actual  origin  of  so 
much  unhappiness  in  married  life.  If  we  have  used  a 
moderate  share  of  intellect  and  very  extensive  observa- 
tion aright,  we  can  find  no  cause  of  sufficient  power  ex- 
cept tobacco,  capable  of  producing  the  wrecks  of  man- 
hood that  often  come  under  our  professional  notice. 
The  dull  leaden  eye,  the  trembling  hand,  and  insecure 
and  unmanly  step,  the  vacillating  purpose  and  incapacity 
to  reason  correctly  on  the  most  simple  subjects,  are  too 
often  seen  connected  with  the  aroma  of  the  deadly 
weed,  as  the  victim  unfolds  in  trembling  accents  his  tale 
of  blighted  prospects  and  chilled  affections. 

So  far  are  we  from  doubting  its  power  over  the  moral 
and  physical  welfare  of  the  race,  that  we  have  not  a ' 
doubt  that  it  has  infinitely  more  to  do  with  the  physical 
imperfection  and  early  death  of  the  children  of  its  vota- 
ries, than  its  great  associate,  drunkenness  itself.  The 
deficiency  of  virile  power  in  many  instances  of  long  con- 
tinued smokers  is  very  marked.  Every  surgeon  of 
experience  must  have  observed  it.     The   local   surgical 


TOBACCO.  205 

and  medical  treatment  most  effective  in  these  cases, 
proves  conclusively  that  it  is  to  the  debilitating  and  ex- 
hausting influence  of  tobacco  that  the3a  sad  consequences 
are  due.  How,  indeed,  could  it  be  that  an  agent  of  such 
universality  of  action  on  the  nervous  and  muscular  sys- 
tems— one  that  at  first  invariably  produces  vertigo  and 
blindness,  and  throws  its  victim  prostrate  on  the  earth 
in  temporary  death,  should  not  reach  its  climax  in  the 
role  of  its  peculiar  power,  in  that  mysterious  system 
where  nature  has  chosen  to  evolve  redundant  life? 
What  is  the  period  for  this  grand  demonstration  of  Al- 
mighty power  ?  What  evidence  does  the  Creator  impress 
upon  the  countenance  of  its  possession  ? 

One  would  think  that  a  man's — more  especially  a  young 
man's — natural  instincts  would  awaken  him  to  the  discov- 
ery that  some  horrid  vampire  was  fanning  him  from 
mental  sleep  to  physical  death  ;  he  has  before  him  every 
day  the  bright  eye,  the  elastic  step,  and  the  lithe  limbs 
of  his  companions  ;  he  sees,  but  seems  not  to  understand, 
the  quickly  averted  eye,  the  expressive  and  scornful  face 
of  insulted  woman,  as  she  refuses  to  take  his  offered  but 
defiled  seat  in  the  omnibus  or  rail-car ;  he  permits  her 
to  open  the  window  and  expose  her  health  to  the  chill 
air,  to  get  a  little  air  untainted  with  the  loathsome  aroma 
of  his  foul  breath ;  he  is  refused  employment  at  many 
gentlemanly  occupations  by  most  sagacious  men,  and  yet 
he  persists  in  debasing  himself ;  he  must  have  his  "nar- 
cotic," his  "  stupefier."  A  very  good  proof  of  its  influence 
on  the  delicacy  of  a  man's  perception  may  be  found  in  the 
frequent  appeal  to  his  opponents  :  "  Look  at  me,  it  has 
never  hurt  me."  This  appeal  is  often  made  by  men  who, 
from  the  associate  habit  of  beer  or  brandy-drinking,  have 
become  actually  puffy  with  soft  fat,  and  their  breaths 
redolent  of  that  indescribably  filthy  and  disgusting  ex- 


206  TOBACCO. 

halation  from  liquor  and  tobacco  ;  drenching  the  floor  in 
a  circle,  and  defiling  your  clothes  with  their  constant 
expectoration,  apparently  unconscious  of  their  filthiness, 
and  their  liability  to  a  biting  or  insulting  reply. 

Both  smoking  and  chewing  also  produce  marked  alter- 
ations in  the  most  expressive  features  of  the  face.  The 
lips  are  closed  by  a  circular  muscle,  which  completely 
surrounds  them  and  forms  their  pulpy  fullness.  Now 
every  muscle  of  the  body  is  developed  in  precise  ratio 
with  its  use,  as  most  young  men  know — they  endeavor  to 
develop  and  increase  their  muscle  in  the  gymnasium.  In 
spitting,  and  holding  the  cigar  in  the  mouth,  this  muscle 
is  in  constant  use  ;  hence  the  coarse  appearance  and 
irregular,  development  of  the  lips,  when  compared  with 
the  rest  of  the  features,  in  chewers  and  smokers.  The 
eye  loses  its  natural  fire,  and  becomes  dull  and  lurid  ;  it 
is  unspeculative  and  unappreciative  ;  it  answers  not  be- 
fore the  word  ;  its  owner  gazes  vacantly,  and  often 
repels  conversation  by  his  stupidity. 

The  foulness  of  the  breath  in  most  chewers  and 
smokers  proves  positively  that  the  oil  of  tobacco,  with  all 
its  deadly  powers,  is  carried  into  the  blood  and  pervades 
the  whole  system  ;  it  could  not  be  continually  thrown 
out  from  the  lungs  if  it  did  not  thus  reach  the  air- 
cells  and  windpipe  ;  it  is  thrown  out  there  with  the  pois- 
onous carbonic  acid.  Some  persons  absorb  the  poison 
more  freely  than  others.  We  have  seen  paralysis  of  both 
the  upper  and  lower  extremities  in  men  scarce  past  mid- 
dle age.  A  person  who  is  saturated  with  tobacco,  or 
tobacco-poisoned,  acquires  a  sodden  or  dirty  yellow  hue  ; 
two  whiffs  of  his  breath  will  scent  a  large  room  ;  you 
may  nose  him  before  he  takes  his  seat.  Of  this  he  is 
entirely  unconscious  ;  he  will  give  you  the  full  force  of 
his  lungs,  and  for  the  most  part  such  people  have  a  great 


TOBACCO.  207 

desire  to  approach  and  annoy  you.  "We  have  been  fol- 
low round  a  large  office-table  by  them,  backing  contin- 
ally  to  escape  the  nuisance,  till  we  had  made  a  revolution 
or  two  before  our  motive  was  perceived. 

In  eating,  the  tobacco-chewer  must  lose  all  delicate 
appreciation  of  flavor  ;  we  have  observed,  indeed,  that 
he  is  very  easily  satisfied  by  the  filthy  Irish  cookery,  and 
greasy  and  cold  meat  and  vegetables  of  the  hotel  or 
boarding-houses ;  he  seasons  his  food  very  highly,  be- 
cause of  his  obtuse  taste  ;  many  of  these  unfortunates 
drink  raw  brandy  for  the  same  reason. 

Finally,  and  worse  than  all,  he  ceases  to  appreciate 
the  chaste  salute  from  the  rosy  lip  of  love,  and  if  the 
mistress  of  his  blunted  affections  should  permit  him  to 
approach  her  cheek,  it  can  only  be  with  pent-up  breath, 
and  averted  eye  directed  toward  his  pocket — the  only 
attraction  a  beautiful  woman  can  possibly  have  for  a 
tobacco-chewer.  If  there  be  a  vice  more  prostrating  to 
the  body  and  mind,  and  more  crucifying  to  all  the  sym- 
pathies of  man's  spiritual  nature,  we  have  yet  to  be  con- 
vinced of  it. 


HUMANITARY    SKETCHES    FROM    THE  HIGH- 
WAYS. 


THB  RATTLE-SNAKE    ANATOMIST — THE    LAST    FEE — RELIGIOUS    PREJUDICE — DEAR 
SUE,  DO  I  RESEMBLE  YOU? 

The  very  limited  sphere  of  observation  of  character 
which  most  of  our  brethren  seem  inclined  to  think  be- 
longs to  their  profession,  has  always  appeared  to  us  to 
give  a  large  proportion  of  them  the  appearance  of  very 
stupid  people.  The  awful  gravity  and  exceedingly  learned 
appearance  of  some  of  them,  is  well  calculated  to  impress 
a  large  class  of  men ;  but  somehow  it  always  excites  our 
risibles  to  listen  to  their  impressive  demonstrations  of 
their  medical  skill,  in  their  measured  sentences.  The 
laughing  devil,  however,  prevails  but  a  short  time  ;  for  it 
soon  begins  to  bore  a  man  and  annoy  his  nerves,  when 
they  attempt  to  display  their  intellectual  wares  to  an  old 
surgical  wolf.  Occasionally  they  venture  into  the  edi- 
torial den,  and  we  are  lost  in  curious  speculation  on  their 
moral  and  physical  peculiarities  ;  the  city  brethren  are 
mostly  stereotypes  of  the  irmedical  exemplars  ;  some  af- 
fect the  style  of  the  great  Butcher  surgeon  ;  some  (but 
they  are  few,  and  the  attempt  is  difficult,  for  he  is  a  lively 
little  fellow  and  has  a  keen  eye)  try  to  outswagger  the 
Phenomenon  ;  and  occasionally  one  actually  deports  him- 
self in  a  simple  and  unaffected  manner,  like  a  gentleman. 
Now  and  then  a  natural  genius  comes  in  from  the  far-off 
country,  and  then  we  often  enjoy  a  touch  of  unsophisticat- 
ed nature.    Lately  we  had  a  specimen,  which  proves  the 


THE  BATTLE-SNAKE  ANATOMIST.  209 

truth  of  the  idea  advanced  by  some  physiologists,  that 
man  approximates  in  action  and  gradually  in  formation 
to  the  animals  with  whose  habits  he  is  most  familiar. 

Weary  with  a  pretty  exhausting  day's  work,  I  had 
thrown  myself  upon  that  altar  for  the  sacrifice  of  all 
manly  ambition,  a  doctor's  office  couch,  and  for  a  moment 
the  senses  were  oblivious  of  the  world,  and  dreams  of 
babbling  brooks,  the  wings  of  flying  birds,  and  meadows 
and  forest  shades,  flecked  and  illumined  by  flowers,  had 
usurped  the  place  of  the  querulous  and  discontented 
invalid.  Between  sleep  and  waking,  or  when  with  such 
enchanting  visions  as  I  love  to  believe,  floating  between 
heaven  and  earth,  my  lids  occasionally  disclosing  the 
beauties  of  an  office  and  its  fascinating  accessories,  a  long 
individual  of  uncouth  anatomy,  and  clad  in  awkward 
habiliments,  colored  with  butternut  dye,  stole  softly  down 
the  steps  and  knocked  stealthily  at  the  door.  On  bidding 
him  enter,  I  was  convinced  I  had  a  specimen  of  humanity 
of  no  ordinary  kind  before  me.  Personally  he  was 
unique  ;  six  feet  of  bones,  sinews,  and  nerves,  apparently 
destitute  of  blood,  with  legs  and  arms  out  of  all  propor- 
tion in  their  great  length,  surmounted  by  a  small  head} 
covered  with  an  old  shaggy  slouched  hat,  which,  being 
removed,  let  fall  a  few  locks  of  hair  like  the  end  of  a 
weather-beaten  and  frayed  hempen  rope  ;  beneath  and 
between  these  scattered  locks  gleamed  intensely  two 
sunken  gray  eyes,  surmounted  with  sparse  eye-brows  of 
similar  color  and  texture  to  the  hair.  The  figure  glided 
up  to  my  couch  and  hissed  out  :  "  Are  you  Doctor 
Dixon?"  "Yes."  "The  author  of  such  a  book?"  (I 
am  sorry  I  have  forgotton  the  title.)  "No."  To  this 
my  visitor  replied  he  was  sure  I  was  mistaken,  and  to  my 
renewed  asseveration  that  I  was  not,  he  began  to  hiss  out 
several  sentences,  between  each  one  demanding,  "  Don't  t 


210  THE  RATTLE-SNAKE  ANATOMIST. 

you  know  that — and  that — and  that  ?"  emphasizing  each 
one  till  his  last  emphatic  that,  and  the  near  approach,  of 
his  long  arms  and  gray  eyes,  made  him  look  like  a 
maniac.  Accustomed  to  see  some  odd  specimens,  I  suc- 
ceeded in  preserving  both  my  coolness  and  my  veracity  ; 
I  stoutly  denied  the  authorship  of  the  work  imputed  to 
me,  and  of  which,  from  the  passages  quoted,  I  should  not 
have  been  ashamed,  and  finally  got  my  visitor  so  far 
calmed  as  to  inquire  what  he  had  in  a  little  flat  box,  of 
some  eighteen  inches  square  and  not  over  two  in  depth, 
which  he  kept  clutched  in  one  hand,  and  which,  from  its 
being  tightly  screwed  together,  I  imagined  must  contain 
something  of  extraordinary  consequence,  if  not  great 
value.  Possibly  a  collection  of  diamonds  discovered  in 
the  "West,  which,  after  California  gold,  seemed  only  want- 
ing to  destroy  our  republic,  and  reduce  us  to  French 
trifling  and  vassalage,  under  some  magnificent  liar  and 
thief  like  Louis  Napoleon.  I  instantly  became  convinced 
that  the  precious  box  contained  a  considerable  portion  of 
the  soul  of  its  possessor.  Taking  a  small  screw-driver 
from  his  pocket,  he  informed  me,  with  impressive  empha- 
sis, that  he  was  sure  I  would  appreciate  the  scientific 
labors  of  his  life  ;  he  was  on  his  way  to  Europe  to  exhibit 
the  extraordinary  result  of  his  anatomical  labors  in  com- 
parative anatomy.  A  physician  in  the  northwestern 
part  of  the  State,  he  had  for  many  years  devoted  his 
attention  to  comparative  anatomy,  and  at  length  having 
completed  "  his  collection,"  he  was  on  his  way  to  exhibit 
the  result  of  his  labors  in  Europe.  As  he  used  the  term, 
"his  collection,"  in  its  widest  sense,  I  felt  at  a  loss  to 
conceive  what  possible  relation  the  contents  of  a  box 
eighteen  inches  square  and  two  deep,  could  possibly  bear 
to  the  science  that  occupied  the  life  of  a  Hunter  or  a 
Cuvier ;   I  fancied  he  had  some  simple  and  interesting 


THE  BATTLE-SNAKE  ANATOMIST.  211 

specimen  to  make  me  ashamed  of  my  ignorance  of  so 
enlightening  a  science — my  own  investigations  having 
been  chiefly  occupied  by  the  human  specimen.  The 
screw-driver  at  length  revealed  the  darling  pets  of  my 
visitor,  and  caused  me  again  to  examine  the  owner's 
anatomy,  to  find  some  new  evidence  of  the  doctrine  of 
Metempsychosis.  I  had  heard  him  hiss,  and  no  sooner 
did  I  see  the  contents  of  the  box,  than  I  stepped  off  a 
pace  or  so,  expecting  to  hear  the  horrible  rattle  ;  the 
spirit  of  a  rattle-snake  ought  surely  to  dwell  in  that  long, 
bloodless  body.  Arranged  in  circles,  and  neatly  secured 
on  a  sheet  of  white  paper,  were  the  skeleton  heads  of  a 
number  of  snakes!  Standing  off  a  pace  or  two,  and 
holding  the  precious  little  box  at  arm's  length,  he  seemed 
to  enjoy  his  anticipated  triumph.  "That,"  said  he,  in- 
dicating with  his  skinny  finger,  "  is  the  Rattle-snake  ; 
that  is  the  Copper-head  ;  that  is  the  Pilot-snake  ;  that  is 
the  Messessauga  ;"  and  so  on,  enumerating  a  dozen  of 
the  horrible  reptiles,  till  he  came  to  the  Adder  and  Gar- 
ter-snake ;  then,  placing  the  box  on  the  table,  he  took 
out  a  long  style  and  pointed  to  sundry  small  bony  pro- 
jections, which  he  pronounced  exostoses,  and  anchyloses, 
— though  these  learned  terms,  in  my  humble  opinion 
conveyed  nothing  more  than  the  irregular  bony  unions  of 
certain  fractures,  inflicted,  according  to  scriptural  com- 
mand, by  that  Satanic  exuberance  of  maternal  fruitful- 
ness — a  country  boy  of  larger  or  smaller  growth. 

My  visitor  had  now  seated  himself,  and  allowed  me  to 
examine  stealthily  his  cranial  developments.  I  soon  saw 
by  the  absence  of  the  higher  reflective  faculties,  and 
causality  and  comparison,  that  his  idea  of  comparative 
anatomy  began  and  ended  with  snakes,  and  his  notions  of 
pathology  were  circumscribed  by  bone  ;  exostoses  and 
anchyloses,  suitably  varied,  would  for  him  quadrate  the 


212  THE  BATTLE-SNAKE  ANATOMIST. 

circle  ;  in  short,  I  could  not  but  think  that  in  a  former 
state  of  existence,  he  had  often  had  his  head  broken  by  a 
stone,  and  had  learned  how  to  squirm  his  way  through 
the  rocks,  and  hiss  defiance  in  the  form  of  some  one  of 
his  favorite  reptile  specimens.  In  practice,  he  had  evi- 
dently got  no  higher  than  mercury  and  quinine  ;  he 
informed  me  with  great  sorrow  that  he  formerly  gave 
seven  or  eight  ounces  yearly,  but  last  year  he  used  but 
two.  He  had  saved  enough  money  to  carry  him  home, 
and  was  then  on  his  way  to  Germany  with  "  his  collec- 
tion in  comparative  anatomy."  Doubtless  his  specimens 
were  far  less  destructive  when  in  full  activity  amongst 
their  native  rocks,  considering  their  opportunities  for 
practice,  than  their  unsophisticated  collector  would  have 
been  with  his  medical  artillery  and  ammunition,  had  he 
lived  in  a  more  populous  region  ;  very  sure  are  we  that 
his  ideas  of  comparative  anatomy  and  pathology  were 
quite  as  enlarged  as  many  of  his  city  brethren.  We  feel 
rather  shy  about  presenting  this  specimen  ;  "  like  seeks 
like  "  often,  we  know,  and  it  may  furnish  a  doubt  to  some 
of  our  professional  Academic  friends  why  our  eccentric 
visitor  should  have  sought  us  out  in  so  very  special  a 
manner  to  exhibit  his  snakes'  heads.  One  thing  consoles 
us,  however  ;  the  king  of  the  American  tribe  always 
springs  his  rattle  before  he  bites  ;  but  the  black  snake  is 
a  coward  and  gives  no  notice  ;  he  either  bites  without 
warning,  or  turns  tail  and  runs  away  like  a  medical 
slanderer. 

Alas !  how  many  beautiful  flowers  spring  up  in  our 
hearts  under  the  genial  influence  of  a  pure  humanitary 
emotion  and  the  recollection  of  our  earliest  loves,  and  are 
withered  and  crushed  under  the  fierce  sun  of  prosperity 
and  the  hard  necessity  of  money.  Oh,  that  "society" 
would  allow  some  other  criterion  of  merit  than  success 


THE  RATTLE-SNAKE  ANATOMIST.  213 

and  money !  then  methinks  many  a  manly  spirit  would 
be  allowed  to  rekindle  for  a  few  hours,  in  some  little 
nook,  where  the  brook  ripples,  and  the  birds  and  crickets 
chirp,  the  fire  that  once  glowed  so  warmly  in  the  heart, 
when  we  resolved  to  be — men  as  well  as  doctors.  The 
world  demands  too  much  of  the  honest  surgeon,  when  it 
requires  every  hour  of  his  time  to  secure  the  means  of  a 
mere  appearance  ;  without  which,  in  its  helplessness  of 
perception,  it  cannot  see  merit.  These  reflections  spring 
unbidden  by  personal  impulses  to  the  pen.  They  are 
from  the  spirit-hoard  of  the  past,  and  are  always 
awakened  when  we  pass  a  little  nook  in  an  old  country 
churchyard,  near  a  certain  town  we  used  to  frequent  du- 
ring our  peripatetic  forays  in  cataract  and  cross-eye 
hunting.  There,  marked  by  a  simple  stone,  rest  the 
remains  of  a  professional  brother  of  no  common  charac- 
ter. Twenty  years  ago  I  met  him  professionally,  by  his 
own  request,  to  operate  on  a  case  of  cataract  which  his 
modesty  and  conscientiousness  would  not  allow  him  to 
attempt ;  he  then  gave  me  a  portion  of  his  early  history. 
The  son  of  a  poor  clergyman  in  one  of  the  Eastern  States, 
he  was  so  unfortunate  in  his  medical  studies,  as  to  imbibe 
a  passion  for  physiological  medicine  ;  he  early  saw  the 
absurdity  of  expecting  from  pills  and  potions,  what 
could  only  follow  an  observance  of  the  laws  of  life.  As 
this  idea  had  taken  hold  of  his  mind,  as  a  philosophical 
and  honest  man,  it  speedily  showed  its  results  in  his 
practice.  The  community  in  which  he  resided,  like  that 
of  nearly  all  our  American  towns,  was  extremely  ignorant 
in  all  matters  of  natural  science,  and  prejudiced  against 
every  innovation  on  their  usual  course  of  life,  and  espe- 
cially so  toward  every  one  who  attacked  their  sensualities, 
and  was  outside  the  pale  of  the  established  religion 
of  the  place,  which  was  the  old  school  of  Presbyterians. 


214  THE  LAST  FEE — RELIGIOUS  PREJUDICE. 

Added  to  his  philosophical  bias,  my  unfortunate  friend, 
and  a  lovely  wife  he  had  brought  with  him  from  his  na- 
tive town,  were  Unitarians.  As  there  was  no  church  of 
that  denomination  in  the  town,  the  young  couple  cheer- 
fully joined  their  neighbors  to  the  extent  of  their  limited 
means  in  the  support  of  the  clergyman,  and  aided  in  all 
the  religious  enterprises  of  the  place  ;  they  regularly  at- 
tended the  services  of  the  church,  but  it  was  observed 
that  they  took  no  part  in  the  weekly  prayer-meetings. 
After  several  decided  expressions  of  surprise  by  the 
clergyman,  my  friend  could  not  consistently  withhold  his 
opinion ;  which  every  Unitarian  will  know  was  not  in 
favor  of  such  exciting  demonstrations  of  religious  desires 
as  are  usually  given  by  the  zealous  in  these  assemblages. 
These  opinions  were  given  with  that  mildness  and  per- 
fectly unrestrained  freedom,  that  every  well-bred  clergy- 
man ought  to  expect  from  an  equally  well-bred  and 
well-educated  physician  ;  but  they  were  decidedly  dis- 
tasteful. They  parted  amicably  in  appearance,  and  my 
friend  continued  his  usual  daily  routine,  but  he  speedily 
discovered  the  consequence  of  his  candor.  He  was  a 
great  favorite  with  the  ladies,  from  that  gentle  yet  earnest 
manner  that  every  woman  instinctively  admires,  and  he 
had  built  largely  on  this  and  his  acknowledged  familiarity 
with  their  peculiar  diseases,  as  a  sure  foundation  for  fu- 
ture success,  in  earning  at  least  a  competence. 

Practice  began  to  fall  off ;  one  by  one  his  patients  dis- 
covered that  the  doctor  gave  very  little  medicine — 
indeed,  they  often  got  well  without  any,  and  yet  the 
yearly  bills  were  sent  in  ;  soon  it  was  noticed  that  my 
friend  rarely  had  a  case  of  serious  disease.     Somehow 

Dr.  ,  who  had  but  lately  come  into  the  village, 

and  purchased  the  handsomest  house  in  town,  had  suc- 
ceeded in  raising  several  of  his  patients  after  fearful  at- 


CHURCH   INFLUENCE   VS.   SCIENCE.  215 

tacks.  The  apothecary — who  had  left  my  immediate 
neighborhood  in  the  city,  because  he  had  killed  a  child 
.by  substituting  strychnine  instead  of  morphine,  in  a  com- 
pound ordered  by  a  physician — spread  the  report  that 

"  Dr. wrote  the  most  elegant  recipes  he  had  ever 

read,"  and  evinced  a  "  splendid  knowledge  of  his  profes- 
sion." My  poor  friend  always  brought  his  own  simple 
medicines ;  indeed,  I  know  that  he  looked  with  horror 
upon  most  recipes  of  varied  and  powerful  ingredients, 
such  as  apothecaries  dearly  love  to  sell.  His  means  were 
limited,  and  his  modest  chaise  was  not  as  ornamental  as 
his  professional  brother's  superb  bays.     Matters  went  on 

thus  for  a  year,  when  Dr. joined  the  church,  and 

my  friend  having  declined  to  favor  his  professional 
brother's  views  in  the  administration  of  large  doses  of 
medicine  to  several  former  patients  who  had  left  him,  but 
nevertheless  insisted  in  calling  him  in  consultation  in 
some  cases  of  severe  disease  that  had  been  already  over- 
medicated,  was  reduced  to  a  practice  not  sufficient  to 
support  him.  He  sold  his  horse  and  chaise,  and  his  wife 
established  a  small  school ;  but  this  soon  failed  be- 
cause of  the  Unitarianism  ;  he  was  outside  the  pale  of 
the  fashionable  religion  of  the  village. 

About  this  time,  his  health  beginning  to  fail,  he  re- 
solved to  eke  out  his  meagre  living  by  preparing  some 
beautiful  native  birds  for  ornithologists  and  parlor  orna- 
ments ;  this  was  soon  discovered,  and  although  the 
occupation  gave  that  pliancy  and  practice  to  the  fingers, 
which  was  evidently  available  in  surgical  and  obstetrical 
business,  it  was  pronounced  "  decidedly  unprofessional," 
and  sneered  at  by  the  two  poor  and  ignorant  village  doc- 
tors, who  took  their  cue  from  their  rich  brother,  now  his 
acknowledged  enemy.  He  knew  his  health  was  too  feeble 
to  commence  in  a  new  place,  and  felt  that  he  could  not 
10 


216  THE  GREAT  TRIAL  OF  THE  PRETENDER. 

avoid  similar  offences  elsewhere.  A  cough  had  set  in  ; 
he  was  evidently  smitten  by  that  great  leveller,  consump- 
tion. At  this  period,  a  young  and  lovely  woman,  who 
had  married  a  merchant,  and  had  been  a  former  patient 
of  my  friend,  but  had  been  compelled  by  her  mother  to 

call  in  Dr.  ,  was  taken  in  labor.     The  doctor  was 

far  from  being  a  skillful  obstetric  practitioner  ;  indeed, 
as  the  result  proved,  he  was  quite  unacquainted  with  that 
indispensable  part  of  the  science,  the  presentations.  A 
very  active  labor  of  several  hours  failed  to  accomplish  the 

delivery,  and  when  Dr. could  no  longer  avoid  the 

necessity,  he  yielded  to  the  importunity  of  the  husband, 
and  acceded  to  the  proposal  of  a  consultation  ;  the  pa- 
tient herself  insisted  on  seeing  my  friend,  who  was  now 

confined  to  his  bed  ;  but  Dr. had  refused  to  meet 

him.  In  this  emergency,  nothing  was  left  for  the  attend- 
ing physician  but  to  retire,  and  for  the  husband  to  bring 
my  friend  from  his  dying-bed.  He  obeyed  the  summons, 
although  in  so  exhausted  a  state  as  to  doubt  his  ability 
to  render  any  aid,  should  physical  energy  be  essential  to 
its  accomplishment.  Indeed,  his  friend  told  me  that 
when  he  discovered  a  mal-presentation,  and  that  version 
was  still  possible  during  the  long  intervals  of  exhaustion 
between  the  pains,  he  felt  that  he  should  fail  if  he  at- 
tempted it  unaided  by  a  stimulant.  Calling  for  a  glass 
of  wine,  and  sustained  by  a  will  that  had  only  yielded  to 
hereditary  disease,  he  speedily  effected  the  delivery  of  a 
living  child.  He  had  been  in  the  house  less  than  an 
hour,  when  the  patient  slept  her  first  sleep  in  two  days, 

with  a  lovely  and  strong  infant  by  her  side.     Dr. , 

before  he  so  disgracefully  resigned  his  patient,  had  urged 
the  necessity  of  the  most  horrible  of  all  the  resources  of 
the  obstetrician  to  save  the  life  of  the  mother  only !  the 
result  admitted  of  no  cavil ;  it  was  pure  science  and  skill 


PATRONAGE    TOO    LATE.  217 

versus  ignorance  and  actual  lack  of  the  common  rudi- 
ments of  obstetrics.  My  poor  friend  could  not  leave  the 
house  of  his  patient  for  days  ;  indeed,  they  would  not 
have  allowed  it  at  all,  had  his  pride  permitted  him  to  re- 
main. His  kind  wife  spent  her  time  between  the  bedside 
of  her  husband  and  the  young  mother  ;  and  when  they 
left  for  their  own  solitary  home,  my  friend  carried  with 
him  his  last  fee  ;  but  two  months  afterward  he  was  put 
in  the  village  church-yard.  Dr. was  at  the  fu- 
neral ;  he  could  now  meet  him  without  fear  of  his  science 
or  his  honesty  ;  and  the  poor  old  clergyman  pathetically 
regretted  the  loss  of  so  useful  a  man,  and  "  hoped  "  that 
"  God,  in  his  infinite  mercy,  had  taken  him  to  a  better 
world."  We  love  to  believe  that  some  day  we  will  all 
meet  where  neither  religious  prejudice,  nor  poverty,  nor 
medical  selfishness  will  separate  us. 

It  is  a  beautiful  thing  to  go  out  on  the  highway  and 
behold  the  moving  throng,  and  feel  that  we  are  brethren 
of  a  common  family  ;  we  may  condemn  the  vices  of  a 
man  :  we  may  shrink  from  an  entire  class  of  the  human 
family,  as  companions,  but  when  the  helpless  cry  of  in- 
fancy or  the  trembling  limbs  of  age  demand  our  aid  and 
sympathy,  we  are  made  to  feel  that  each  one  of  us  is  but 
one  atom  in  the  great  ocean  of  humanity,  hastening  to 
that  shore  where  the  surging  billows  never  cease  as  they 
carry  us  onward  to  our  eternal  destiny.  Twice  during 
our  lives  each  one  of  us  must  inevitably  require  the  aid 
of  our  fellows — at  our  birth  and  our  death. 

It  is  a  dreadful  thing,  and  one  that  the  physician  is 
often  called  upon  to  see,  "when  youth  itself  survives 
young  love  and  joy,"  and  the  biting  taunt  and  the  sharp 
reply  are  given  and  sent  between  husband  and  wife,  even 
the  father  and  mother  of  children.  What  can  be  more 
shocking  to  a  man  who  has  seen  a  couple  not  yet  past 


218  AN  AGED    COUPLE — TBUE  LOVE. 

middle  life,  through  some  of  those  awful  scenes  we  are 
called  upon  to  witness,  and  then,  from  some  trifling  cause, 
to  hear  them  convince  us  that  they  are  cultivating  a  bed 
of  thorns  for  that  period  when  they  will  be  left  alone  by 
the  world  to  sustain  the  weight  of  years  by  their  own 
companionship.  Love  is  a  beautiful  thing  in  youth,  for 
it  shows  its  origin  in  pure  emotion,  but  it  is  always  full 
of  fear  for  its  continuance  ;  in  middle  life  it  is  glorious, 
for  it  causes  us  to  have  faith  in  God  and  man  ;  but  in 
old  age  it  is  hallowed,  for  it  makes  us  remember  its  ori- 
gin ;  tried  by  affliction,  it  must  have  originated  in  purity, 
for  it  has  withstood  all  outside  attractions,  and  hallowed 
by  time,  in  company  with  its  first  and  last  companion,  it 
approaches  its  heavenly  source  :  "  God  is  love." 

Many  years  ago,  when  pursuing  our  thankless  .task  of 
visiting  the  sick  in  the  highways  and  by-ways  of  the  city, 
we  used  to  meet  an  aged  couple  walking  arm  in  arm 
down  one  of  our  main  streets,  and  always  engaged  in 
cheerful  conversation  ;  this  was  the  more  remarkable,  for 
they  were  evidently  very  old,  and  though  scrupulously 
clean,  very  poor.  The  man  was  over  eighty,  and  the 
woman  at  least  seventy,  and  he  was  completely  blind, 
the  corneal  or  pellucid  part  of  both  eyes  having  become 
opaque  from  violent  inflammation  ;  one  of  them  pro- 
truded, being  what  surgeons  call,  in  their  nomenclature, 
staphylomatous.  Notwithstanding  this,  the  old  man  was 
actually  handsome  ;  his  other  features  were  noble  and 
placid ;  he  was  evidently  a  gentleman  and  a  Christian  ; 
that  face  could  not  deceive.  His  companion  resembled 
him  in  so  remarkable  a  degree,  excepting  the  poor  eyes, 
(hers  were  large  and  blue,  and  very  expressive  ;  she 
evidently  saw  well,  wearing  no  glasses,)  as  to  induce  me 
to  conclude  they  were  sister  and  brother.  Their  evident 
devotion  to  each  other  struck  a  sympathetic  chord  that 


"DEAR  SUE,  DO  I  RESEMBLE  YOU?"  219 

compelled  me  involuntarily,  after  several  months'  notice 
of  them  every  morning,  to  raise  my  hat  and  bid  them 
good  morning  ;  this  being  kindly  returned,  in  due  time 
begot  a  passing  remark  about  the  weather ;  finally,  my 
curiosity  could  wait  no  longer,  and  with  an  apology  for 
the  freedom,  I  begged  him  to  tell  to  me  whether  their 
close  resemblance  in  features  indicated  the  relationship 
of  sister  and  brother.  I  shall  never  forget  the  reply,  and 
I  hope  no  young  couple  who  may  find  the  demon  of  do- 
mestic life  darken  their  early  love,  will  fail  to  remember 
it.  Casting  his  sightless  orbs  upon  his  companion,  whilst 
every  other  feature  showed  the  soul  that  welled  up  in  his 
breast,  he  replied  :  "  "Why,  my  dear  sir,  she  is  my  wife  ; 
we  have  lived  together  nearly  fifty  years,  but  I  have  not 
seen  her  for  thirty."  Then,  musing  a  moment — for  I  was 
sorry  I  had  asked  the  question  and  was  silent — he  con- 
tinued :  "  Well,  I  have  heard  it  so  often,  it  must  be  so  ; 
yet  how  strange  it  is,  for  when  I  first  knew  her,  she  was 
a  beautiful  young  creature,  and  her  eyes  were  very 
bright ;  "  Dear  Sue,  can  it  be — do  I  resemble  you  ?" 

Several  years  after,  when  I  had  long  removed  from 
that  part  of  the  city,  I  was  requested  to  see  a  poor  old 
woman,  ill  with  cholera,  whose  husband  had  died  that 
morning.  In  the  northern  suburb  of  the  city,  in  a  little 
frame  house,  I  found  the  dead  body  of  my  old  blind 
friend,  decently  laid  out  by  the  hands  of  kind  neighbors  ; 
he  had  expired  that  morning.  In  the  front  room  (they 
had  but  two)  lay  his  dear  old  companion,  already  nearly 
pulseless  ;  she  knew  me  instantly,  and  smiled  when  I 
took  her  hand.  On  inquiry,  she  said  she  had  no  pain, 
but  felt  very  weak  ;  she  had  taken  her  bed  only  that  very 
morning ;  there  was  actually  no  symptom  of  cholera, 
nor  indeed  any  other  disease  ;  the  shock  of  her  husband's 
death  was  too  much  for  her,  and  she  was  about  to  die 


220  TRUE  LOVE  BEGINS  AND  ENDS   IN  GOD. 

from  pure  exhaustion.  I  gave  some  wine  and  ammonia 
which  the  kind  friends  had  provided,  and  looked  round 
the  neat  room.  On  a  clean  little  pine  table,  spread  with 
a  snowy  cloth,  lay  a  Bible,  a  pair  of  old  silver  spectacles, 
and  several  pairs  of  shoes,  some  unbound  ;  they  told  the 
story ;  poverty  and  love,  industry  and  faith  in  God. 
She  read  my  thoughts  :  "  You  said  we  looked  alike,"  she 
whispeied,  "  and  he  often  spoke  of  it.  I  could  never  un- 
derstand it,  unless  it  was  because  I  thought  of  him  so 
much  ;  he  was  very  patient,  doctor  ;  although  he  suf- 
fered dreadfully,  he  only  seemed  to  murmur  because  he 
couldn't  see  me ;  but  he  will  soon  see  me  now — soon, 
very  soon — don't  you  think  so,  doctor?"  I  told  her  I 
thought  she  would  die,  but  I  could  not  say  how  soon  ; 
we  would  keep  the  body  as  long  as  possible.  "  Thank 
you,  doctor,"  she  replied,  "  you  know  what  I  want ;  don't 
separate  us."  I  assured  her  it  should  be  as  she  wished. 
I  called  again  the  same  day ;  she  was  dead ;  they 
brought  the  dead  body  to  her  bedside,  and  she  held  the 
hand  in  hers  till  all  was  still.  I  have  not  a  doubt  he  has 
seen  her  ;  such  love  could  only  originate  and  end  in 
heaven. 


SMALL    POX. 


INOCULATION— VACCINATION— WHAT  ARE  THEY  ?— IS  VACCINATION  A  PREVENTIVE 
OR  NOT? 

ft 

The  most  unfortunate  of  all  human  folly  is  vanity  ;  we 
can  prove  it,  for  look  you  :  a  suggestion  is  made,  or  an 
experiment :  Now,  it  is  highly  probable  at  the  very  out- 
set, that  the  suggestor  has  had  his  mind  for  some  time 
more  or  less  occupied  with  the  subject,  and  even  if  it  be 
the  more  immediate  result  of  a  happy  combination  of 
thought,  still  it  is  the  result  of  the  workings  of  another 
mind  than  our  own,  and  consequently  it  presents  a  sub- 
ject in  another  light  :  here  at  once  we  gain  an  advantage, 
viz.,  that  of  comparison  ;  if  we  had  no  other  than  our 
own  ideas  to  work  upon,  the  results  of  thought  could  nei- 
ther be  so  varied  nor  so  valuable.  All  truth  must  come 
from  small  beginnings.  Nothing  ever  was,  or  ever  will  be 
absolutely  new  ;  we  say  ever  was,  or  will  be,  and  we  care 
not  to  stop  and  defend  the  assertion  :  every  thinking 
man  will  understand  us. 

Suppose  our  beloved  and  philosophical  friends,  the 
Doctors  of  Theology,  had  killed  Galileo  for  his  heresy. 
Suppose  they  and  their  enlightened  brethren,  the  Doc- 
tors of  Medicine,  had  killed  Dr.  Maitland  and  Lady  Mon- 
tague in  England,  and  Cotton  Mather,  and  Dr.  Boyl- 
ston  in  Boston,  and  ignorant  mechanicians  killed  Fulton 
in  New  York  ;  suppose  they  had — and  there  were  plen- 
ty of  them  who  would  have  done  it  with  a  will — would 
that  have  killed  philosophy  or  inoculation,  or  stopped 


222  VACCINATION. 

steamboats  ?  Not  a  bit  of  it ;  they  -would  have  gone  on 
the  faster.  One  man  can't  do  everything,  even  if  he  be  a 
lawyer,  a  physician,  or  a  clergyman,  or  a  college-bred 
fool.  Inoculation  has  made  a  considerable  noise  in  the 
•world,  and  still  occupies  some  attention.  Notwithstand- 
ing the  doubts  some  fifty  years  ago,  most  enlightened 
people  used  to  get  their  children  inoculated  ;  and  therein 
we  think  love  and  fear  elicited  a  little  modesty  on  their 
parts,  for  which  every  physician  at  least  should  have 
been  thankful — we  don't  mean  for  the  modesty  only,  nor 
yet  for  the  $1  or  $5,  dear  reader  ;  a  little  for  that  (when 
they  got  it),  but  more  for  the  mere  pride  of  the  thing — 
it  was  something  actually  done  for  humanity,  and  a  tol- 
erably heavy  gun  for  them  to  point  at  the  fools  who  loved 
to  say  they  were  all  quacks.  Suppose,  now,  the  dear  and 
enlightened  people  had  gone  on  after  Jenner  discovered 
vaccination,  saying  the  same  of  that  they  originally  said 
of  inoculation  :  "  It's  a  humbug  ; "  "  it's  a  crazy  man's 
hobby  ; "  "  it's  flying  in  the  face  of  Providence,"  etc.,  etc. 
Why,  then  they  would  have  been  all  the  while  keeping 
alive  the  small  pox  by  inoculating  it  in  the  systems  of 
those  they  wished  to  protect.  All  those  who  were  not  so 
fortunate  as  to  possess  presumptuous  and  crazy  parents 
to  get  them  inoculated,  would  have  taken  the  small  pox 
in  its  virulent  form  from  those  who  were  inoculated. 
Now,  we  have  brought  you,  dear  reader,  to  the  very  point 
we  wished — that  of  attention  ;  for  we  very  well  know  that 
nine  out  of  ten  of  ye  don't  know  the  difference  between 
inoculation  and  vaccination  ;  pray,  therefore,  dear  mad- 
am, don't  curl  that  pretty  lip  and  make  your  honest  phy- 
sician ashamed  for  you,  when  you  forbid  him  to  re- vac- 
cinate your  child,  for  you  know  nothing  about  it.  He 
only  wants  to  prove  whether  it  was  effectual. 

But,  first  of  all,  what  is  small  pox  ?    Let  us  be  mod- 


VACCINATION.  223 

est,  and  simply  say  we  don't  know.  It  is  a  disease 
that  came  from  India,  a  long  time  ago — Heaven  only 
knows  how  long.  Much  learning  has  been  exhausted  on 
the  subject  to  no  purpose,  other  than  to  show  we  ob- 
tained the  disease,  like  the  cholera,  from  the  East,  where 
it  had,  in  all  probability,  existed  from  time  immemorial. 
The  disease  preceded  the  remedy  many  hundred  years, 
and  swept  off  an  immense  number  of  the  human  family. 
The  proportion  of  deaths  was  very  formidable,  depend- 
ing much  upon  ventilation  and  the  amount  of  medication. 
"Whether  we  shall  ever  know  in  what  the  essence  of  the 
disease  consists,  is  doubtful ;  but  it  is  very  certain  that 
its  greatest  sympton — viz.,  the  eruption — shows  conclu- 
sively that  the  grand  effort  of  nature  is  to  expel  the  poi- 
son from  the  body  by  means  of  the  skin.  Under  the 
system  of  modern  or  philosophical  treatment,  (giving  no 
medicine,)  the  mortality  of  the  disease  has  greatly  de- 
creased :  of  this  hereafter. 

Inoculation  was  the  first  great  discovery  toward  pre- 
venting its  ravages.  The  daughter  of  Lady  Montague 
was  inoculated  in  1717  by  Maitland,  surgeon  to  the  em- 
bassy then  at  Pera,  and  subsequently  her  infant  daugh- 
ter in  London,  in  1821,  they  being  the  first  Europeans 
ever  inoculated.  Old  Cotton  Mather  redeemed  his  witch- 
hanging  memory,  by  co-operating  with  Dr.  Boylston  in 
introducing  the  practice  into  New  England.  Inoculation 
consisted  simply  in  taking  the  lymph  from  a  vesicle  of 
the  small  pox,  from  a  person  who  had  taken  it  in  the 
natural  way,  and  inserting  it  by  a  needle  or  lancet,  under 
the  skin  of  another  person  or  infant  who  had  never  had 
it.  It  was  observed  that  when  communicated  in  this  way, 
the  disease  produced  but  little  fever,  and  very  few  vesi- 
cles or  eruptions,  and  that  the  deaths  were  not  more  than 
one  in  Jive  hundred  ;  and  that  all  these  persons  were  after- 
10* 


224  VACCINATION. 

wards  safe  from  taking  the  disease.  This,  then,  is  inocu- 
lation ;  it  is  now  forbidden  by  law,  because  it  was  dis- 
covered some  fifty  years  afterwards,  by  Jenner,  that  vac- 
cination, so  called  from  vacca,  a  cow,  (physicians  chiefly 
use  the  Latin  nomenclature  because  it  is  not  subject  to 
change,)  had  the  power  to  protect  the  system  from  small 
pox,  as  completely  as  inoculation.  Now,  as  inoculating 
kept  up  the  small  pox  by  distributing  centres  of  infection 
wherever  a  person  was  inoculated,  whence  it  might  be 
taken  by  such  as  had  not  been  thus  protected,  and  pass 
through  its  natural  and  violent  form,  it  became  judicious 
to  forbid  it  by  law,  and  to  substitute  vaccination  in  its 
place.  As  Jenner  made  his  first  experiment  in  England, 
in  1796,  and  it  was  fourteen  years  more  before  it  became 
general  in  America,  all  of  the  present  generation,  who  are 
over  sixty  years  old,  were  inoculated  with  small  pox 
virus,  and  not  vaccinated. 

This,  then,  is  the  difference.  Dr.  Jenner  observed  that 
the  fingers  of  such  milkmaids  as  had  milked  cows  that 
had  a  peculiar  eruption  on  the  udder,  or  teats,  were  affect- 
ed in  a  similar  manner,  and  that  these  persons,  though 
not  inoculated,  did  not  take  small  pox. 

This  novel  and  extraordinary  truth  was  soon  made 
matter  of  universal  experiment,  and  proved  to  the  satis- 
faction of  every  one  who  took  sufficient  pains  to  investi- 
gate it.  It  is  now  also  well  known  that  small  pox  matter 
itself  will,  if  introduced  into  the  cow's  teat,  produce  the 
same  sore,  or  as  it  is  now  universally  called,  the  vaccine 
pustule  ;  this  has  been  done  by  Dr.  Carpenter,  of  Lan- 
caster, Pennsylvania,  and  others.  They  are,  therefore, 
known  to  be  essentially  one  disease.  There  is  no  doubt 
that  the  cows  were  inoculated  with  small  pox  virus  from 
the  fingers  of  the  milkers  who  had  taken  the  disease  from 
others,  in  the  natural  way.     The  matter,  as  it  is  erroneous- 


VACCINATION.  225 

ly  called,  (for  it  is  not  matter,  but  an  almost  colorless  and 
pellucid  lymph,)  must  be  taken  from  the  child  after  a  first 
vaccination  on  the  sixth,  seventh,  or  eighth  day,  accord- 
ing to  the  perfection  of  the  little  pearly  circle  that  con- 
tains it ;  this  encircles  the  original  and  now  dark  red  or 
brown  point,  where  the  puncture  or  slight  scarification 
was  made,  and  the  virus  inserted  by  the  vaccinator. 
Outside  of  this,  there  is  a  beautiful  blush  of  inflammation, 
fading  into  the  surrounding  skin.  On  the  tenth  day  all 
these  points  are  better  characterized,  but  it  is  then  too 
late  to  take  the  lymph.  This  is  usually  done  by  piercing 
the  pearl  colored  circle  with  a  needle  in  a  number  of 
places,  and  then  rolling  over  the  little  round  dots  of  lymph 
that  exude,  a  quarter  of  an  inch  of  the  barrel  of  a  quill 
previously  scraped  so  as  to  take  off  the  gloss  and  enable 
you  to  see  the  virus  on  it.  This  end  of  the  quill  is  slight- 
ly moistened  when  wanted  for  use,  and  rubbed  over  the 
spot  scratched  with  the  lancet ;  in  doing  this,  much  caro 
should  be  used  not  to  draw  more  than  a  single  drop  of 
blood,  and  even  less  if  possible  ;  the  vaccinator  should 
just  abrade  the  skin,  otherwise  the  virus  will  be  too  long 
in  drying  and  get  rubbed  off.  The  stupidity  of  most 
nurses  is  so  great,  that  unless  you  absolutely  insist  upon 
tying  up  the  sleeve  of  the  infant,  and  sit  by  and  see  that 
it  is  kept  off  the  puncture  for  five  or  ten  minutes,  till  it  is 
absolutely  dry,  you  will  have  your  labor  for  your  pains — 
it  will  be  rubbed  off  three  times  out  of  five,  and  bring  you 
trouble  and  distrust.  You  will  always  be  told,  "your 
matter  was  not  good." 

There  is  another  misfortune  attending  vaccination, 
which  gives  the  young  physician  great  trouble  and  anx- 
iety ;  often  actually  ruining  his  prospects,  when  he  is  as 
guiltless  of  all  harm  in  the  matter  as  the  babe  itself. 
This  is  the  excessive  inflammation  of  the  arm,  from  the 


226  VACCINATION. 

frequent  feebleness  and  constitutional  irritability  of  the 
child,  or  else  from  bad  nursing  allowing  the  vesicle  to  be 
frequently  broken  ;  this  not  only  deranges  the  succession 
of  changes  it  should  present  to  the  eye  of  the  physician,  so 
that  he  may  judge  of  its  genuineness,  but  it  causes  great 
distress  to  the  infant.  This  of  course,  is  called  by  gos- 
sips (and  we  are  sorry  to  say,  occasionally  by  wicked  and 
designing  physicians,  jealous  of  their  chosen  brother) 
the  result  of  "  poison  matter."  We  can  conceive  of  such 
a  thing,  but  we  never  saw  a  case  traceable  to  this  source. 
There  is  but  one  kind  of  matter  that  would  with  any  cer- 
tainty produce  its  like  ;  and  we  can  scarcely  conceive  the 
possibility  of  such  being  chosen,  unless  by  a  madman. 
The  "  poison"  is  generally,  as  we  have  had  to  say  on  many 
occasions,  when  the  case  had  either  happened  to  ourselves, 
or  when  in  later  years  it  had  been  referred  to  us  for 
an  opinion,  to  be  found  in  the  head  of  an  ignorant 
nurse,  a  frightened  mother,  or  a  designing  and  jealous 
brother  physician's  tongue.  These  cases  always  subside 
under  a  slight  poultice  :  but  in  a  few  weeks  the  child 
should  be  vaccinated  again  for  greater  certainty  ;  for  it 
may  be  that  the  virus  has  been  all  thrown  off  in  the  sup- 
puration, or  not  enough  absorbed  to  protect  the  constitu- 
tion. There  are  many  careful  and  experienced  men,  who 
now  believe  that  a  number  of  punctures  should  be  made 
in  several  places,  expressly  to  produce  more  of  the  virus 
in  the  arm,  and  thereby  insure  greater  immunity  from 
small  pox.  We  are  by  no  means  sure  this  is  not  sound 
practice,  although  we  have  ourselves  chosen  rather  to  vac- 
cinate again  after  a  few  weeks,  in  order  to  test  the  first 
trial,  than  to  make  so  many  sores  at  one  time.  Of  course, 
if  the  first  have  been  successful,  the  second  does  not  pro- 
duce a  vesicle,  or  "  take,"  as  it  is  familiarly  called.  This 
brings  us  to  the  point  of  re- vaccination.     How  long  does 


VACCINATION.  227 

it  protect?  how  long  before  it  runs  out?  are  questions 
frequently  asked.  And  it  is  astounding  to  say,  some  are 
so  bold  as  to  condemn  it  altogether.  There  is  no  doubt 
whatever,  that  vaccination  in  time  loses  its  protective 
power  in  a  great  number  of  instances.  There  are  some 
even  yet,  who  make  this  the  occasion  of  especial  self -laud- 
ation, alleging  their  own  great  experience  in  distinguish- 
ing the  "genuine  vesicle."  These  are  either  ignorant 
and  conceited  men,  or  designing  ones.  The  most  perfect 
vesicle  may  be  followed  by  the  milder  form  of  small  pox 
or  varioloid.  We  have  repeatedly  seen  it,  and  so  has 
every  other  man  who  will  consent  to  use  his  eyes,  unblind- 
ed  by  prejudice.  Even  virulent  and  confluent  small  pox 
has  itself  twice  attacked  the  same  person !  Let  us  then 
vaccinate  our  patients  every  six  or  seven  years  at  least ; 
we  will  then  do  our  duty.  If  there  be  any  so  mean  as  to 
insinuate  we  do  it  for  gain,  the  remedy  is  easy  ;  let  us  do 
it  for  nothing :  'twill  not  be  the  only  fee  we  shall  lose 
from  that  sort  of  people. 


AN  ARTIST'S   REVERIE-NO.  III. 


Spirits  are  not  finely  touched,  but  to  fine  issues." 

Teabs  have  stolen  by,  since,  at  Milan,  I  heard  the 
music  of  Paganini — the  strange,  unearthly-looking  Pa- 
ganini — those  ravishing,  delicious  tones  ;  those  lords 
over  the  unbroken  smile  of  delight,  the  stoppage  or  free 
flow  of  the  breath,  or  the  impulsive  gush  of  the  heart's 
sigh  and  tear.  Yet  here  they  all  are,  as  fresh,  as  vivid  as 
ever — the  twitter,  the  softly-blent  tones,  the  thunder's 
roll,  the  drum's  tattoo,  and  the  sharp,  startling,  light- 
ning-like crash — here  they  all  memorically  abide  in  per- 
fect harmony  with  the  child's  dimpled  glee,  the  dash  of 
the  waterfall,  the  murmuring  of  the  brook,  the  moanings 
and  shrieks  of  the  wind,  the  howlings  of  the  tempest,  and 
the  sad  wail  for  the  dead.  (How  easily  such  music  mas- 
ters the  human  will! — as  easily  as  the  syren  glance  and 
touch. ) 

And  thus,  thro'  time  and  space,  on  chimes  the  Spanish 
bell — and  mountaineers  take  song,  and  hark,  to  the  an- 
swering  hills  .  .  and  Pasta  sings,  and  sings,  and  trills 
like  the  musical  monarch  of  the  forest  .  .  and  then, 
the  hundred  singers  clasp  their  voices,  and  the  mighty 
organ  moans  and  swells  and  quavers,  and  sinks  away  to 
the  merest  flutter  .  .  and  the  single  voice  of  a  woman 
reigns  .  .  and  the  hundred  voices  chaunt  and  chaunt 
and  move  so  swiftly    .     .     and  all  the  voices  roll  like 


an  aetist's  reverie.  229 

thunder  ;  and  walls  and  dome  and  fretted  roof  reverber- 
ate ;  and  marble  saints  and  priests  and  Saviour  seem  to 
join  .  .  and  then,  (and  as  the  mirror  of  one's  mem- 
ory turns  in  the  noblest  theatre  of  art,) — within  the 
moment's  span,  what  multitudes  of  proud  creations  drop 
the  veil!  .  .  from  ancient  gems  by  Aulus,  to  the 
gigantic  ivory-and-golden  Jupiter  of  Elis— the  urn, 
the  tomb,  the  signet  ring — the  marble  dream  of  Eve, 
by  Ctesiphon — and  naked,  laughing,  sleepy,  amorous 
nymphs,  by  Titian ! 

A  vast  diversity — the  starving  child  and  the  stone  angel 
— the  rotting  heart  and  the  silver  casket — jewels  !  tho'  on 
dead  finger. 

Figures  boxing  ;  figures  vaulting  ;  figures  dying  ; — the 
reverse  torch  and  the  merry  lyre  !  the  sibyl  and  the  seraph  ■ 
sweet  Flora  and  Nell  Gwynne!  And,  as  the  air  sings 
thro'  the  fleetness  of  the  comer's  foot,  we  have  Apollo — all 
clothed  in  light  and  grace  and  lordliness  and  dazzling 
beauty !  with  the  drapery  still  rustling,  the  feet  scarcely 
pressing  the  ground,  and  "the  breath  of  the  power  of 
God "  quite  dancing  thro'  the  nostrils !  Truly,  the  king 
is  held  in  the  galleries  of  thy  hair  !  thy  locks  are  jutting 
from  their  fillet  as  a  jewelry  of  stars  !  and  in  thy  shadoio 
sit  we  with  supreme  delight !  Next,  Raphael,  with  the 
lovely  form  of  Fornarina  and  Mary  at  the  Cross !  And 
Michael  Angelo,  with  "  Moses,"  that  grand  statue !  and 
"Night  and  Morning,"  too — and,  as  with  the  music  of  the 
noise  of  chariots  on  the  mountain  tops,  the  giant  brain  un- 
locks its  chiefest  chamber,  its  Last  Judgment ! 

"  Askalon  shall  see  it  in  fear  ;  and  Ekron,  for  her  ex- 
pectation shall  be  ashamed — they  wait  for  light,  but 
behold  obscurity !  The  stars  know  not  the  astrologers ! 
The  golden  bowl  is  broken  ! 

There  is  silence  in  heaven — legions  stand  up  for  judg- 


230  an  artist's  beyebte. 

ment — the  voice  from  the  Great  "White  Throne  thundereth 
— and  the  abominable  branch  is  cast  out !  The  Moon  and 
Sun  are  as  blots — Earth  wildly  takes  her  way — and  moun- 
tain fires  and  molten  lakes  give  but  such  lurid  light! 
Grandeur  and  blackness  ;  majesty  and  madness  reign ! 
Peerless  the  scene — the  bold  philosophy  ;  the  proud  con- 
ception— sterling  the  knowledge  of  the  play  of  human 
trunks  and  joints  and  reinless  passions !  Bich  is  the  Sis- 
tine  Chapel!  Down  drop  tte  myriads  damn'd!  headlong 
and  sidelong  and  grasping  at  air !  A  heavy  hail !  a  rude 
jostle !  a  monstrous  tangle !  The  false-balance  ;  the  false 
shrift ;  the  face  in  flame  ;  the  horrent  hair !  Caligula 
and  sisters  !  Down  drop  the  myriads  damn'd,  and  fright- 
ful apparitions !  Satyrs  are  there,  and  asps  and  royal 
mountebanks.     *     *    * 

Next,  Edom  comes.  Edom,  the  solitary !  How  is  she 
become  as  a  widow  ?  why  do  her  nobles  dwell  but  in  the 
dust,  and  the  cormorant  and  bittern  lodge  in  the  upper 
lintels  ? — their  voice  alone  sings  from  the  windows  ;  and 
choicest  vestibules  are  lairs  for  wolves  and  lions  and  their 
whelps!  Edom — the  wonderful,  the  beautiful,  the  city 
hewn  from  solid  rock !  niches  and  porticoes  and  statues 
all :  how  very  desolate.  .  .  Edom — man's  pride,  heav- 
en's jealousy!  City — so  people-stript  by  God!  what 
drew  dead  Edom  from  its  mighty  loadstone  ?  where  went 
divinities  and  genii  ;  stray  jasper  and  cornelian  ?  The 
socket's  here — but  not  the  winged  eye — the  serpent's  cast- 
off  coat  is  here — but  not  the  serpent  ringed— fled  are  those 
symbols  so  eternal,  so  all-seeing!  Dear  Edom — where's 
thy  seed-time  and  thy  harvest  ?  thy  love-talks  at  the  well ; 
thy  graceful,  flying  horsemen  ;  and  hosts  on  hosts  of 
glittering,  darting  javelins  ;  and  oval  shields  ? — all,  all, 
are  hissed  away!  Thine  excellency — dukes  and  daugh- 
ters— flaming    chariots    and    prancing    steeds — all,    all, 


an  aetist's  bevebie.  231 

asunder!    Edom — proud  tomb — when  will  thy  human 
dust  be  resurrect  ?    *     *     * 

Next,  tens  of  thousands  of  sarcophagi — and  pyramids 
and  sphinx — and  temples  all  magnificent — and  cities 
labyrinthine — and  lo !  the  costly,  curious  corpse  and  coffin 
of  Cleopatra.  .  .  .  Off  with  the  lid !  Unwind  the  band- 
age linen !  .  .  .  Ah !  here's  the  face — the  ghastly,  tin- 
selled face — of  the  once  beautiful  and  voluptuous  woman, 
to  build  whose  sepulchre  an  army  toiled !  .  .  .  and  next, 
the  Memnons — forms  gigantic  ;  forms  uncouth ! — monsters 
are  in  the  stocks,  and  speechless  !  Where  now's  the  charm- 
ing voice  of  old,  so  sacred,  so  oracular  f  Where  are  the 
million  spirits  with  their  vocal  magnet?  .  .  .  And 
Cuyps,  Vandyks,  and  strange  old  heads  in  strange  old 
dress,  (Arab  and  Greek  and  Parthian,)  and  strange  old 
shields  and  jars  and  funeral  urns,  and  clustering  beards 
and  sandalled  feet  and  stately  frills,  and  rings  from  fin- 
gers long  since  turned  by  ashes  into  ashes,  at  Pompeii — 
and  strange  old  shapes,  (in  trance,  in  church,  in  iron 
shirts  and  papal  caps,)  who  ever  clasp  their  hands  in 
prayer,  and  keep  a  watch  of  angels  by  the  pillow  !  (as  Frid- 
eswide's  Saint,  and  Lord  de  Vere.)  .  .  .  Figures 
wrestling  ;  figures  racing  ;  figures  flying — like  fair  Helen 
— like  Icarus — like  Scevola  with  the  flame  !  .  .  .  Vast 
the  diversity  !  The  scrap  of  landscape,  and  the  complex 
battle  of  the  soul — the  Etna  and  the  Acteon.  But — be- 
yond all  other  brainal  power,  (in  flourish  since  the  days 
of  Pericles,)  looms  that  of  the  builder  of  the  Grand  Cu- 
pola ;  the  sculptor  of  the  Moses ;  the  painter  of  the  Last 
Judgment ! — a  power  so  immense  in  its  strength  ;  and  so 
alone  in  its  sublimity,  originality,  bold  and  correct  ana- 
tomical displays  and  wonderful  grandeur  of  grouping! 
One  of  those  mental  giants  that  refresh  the  Earth,  once  in 
two  thousand  years !    *    *     * 


232  AN  aetist's  reverie. 

And  now  the  busy  brain  of  the  artist  wanders  off  from 
the  old  art-cradle  of  Europe  to  the  western  world  and 
beholds  in  his  glory  that  grand  creation  of  God,  the  wild 
horse  of  the  prairie!  see  how  he  flies  (without  wings) 
over  the  velvety,  flower-enamelled  and  dew-spangled  car- 
pet of  pure  nature.  What  a  beautiful,  noble  and  grace- 
fully-moving creature  it  is!  with  its  proudly-arched 
neck ;  copious,  silky,  and  wind-tost  mane  and  tail ; 
spacious  and  waltzing  chest ;  compact  shoulders  and 
flanks  ;  and  limbs  all  so  tapering,  sinewy,  and  exquisitely 
cut  at  the  knees,  fetlocks  and  feet — and  see  the  smallness 
and  shape  of  the  head,  matching  as  they  do  with  the 
heads  on  the  Parthenonic  frieze  (by  Phidias,)  with  the 
temples  wide  apart  and  indicative  of  an  intellect  equal  to 
the  chiming-in  with  other  portions  of  the  proud  Athenian 
temple— and  the  nose,  how  slender  it  is,  and  tapering  to- 
ward the  tiny  mouth  ;  and  the  ears,  so  thin,  agile,  sensi- 
tive and  leafy  ;  and  the  cheeks,  so  angular,  and  made  up 
of  nothing  save  bone  and  cuticle,  and  a  tracery  of  veins 
that  runs  about  as  gracefully  as  the  winding  streamlet ! 

Now,  amidst  the  soft  music  of  leaves  and  tumbling 
waters,  and  the  cry  and  wing-flap  of  small  and  great 
birds,  my  wild  horse  halts  in  his  dance  of  extreme  joy, 
and  merely  crops  the  enspangled  grass  and  flowret ;  and 
then  breathes  forth  many  a  pleasure  thrilled  neigh,  which 
floats  over  the  scene,  and  dies  off  echoingly  into  the  vast 
spirit-hoard  or  memory  of  creation's  music !  Now,  with 
up-pricked  ears  and  full  opened  and  clear-balled  eyes, 
the  noble  animal  gazes  and  gazes  around  and  snorts  like 
the  sharp  and  sudden  ruffle  and  snap  of  the  wind-met 
pennon !  And  now,  he  paws  the  earth,  shakes  his  crest, 
kneels,  sits,  rolls  over  and  over,  and  even  boxes  at  the  blue 
heavens — either  in  prayer,  or  else  in  imitation  of  the  poses 
and  actions  of  the  acrobat. 


an  artist's  reyeree.  233 

Then  he  rises  quite  erectly,  and  sheets  on  sheets  of 
heavy  mist  leap  from  his  quivering  nostrils  ;  and  next 
he  displays  his  open  mouth,  all  adorned  with  palisades 
of  ivory,  and  scarlet- velvet  dome  and  floor,  and  a  richly 
crimson-colored,  writhing  and  throne-like  tongue  Then 
off  he  bounds  over  sward  and  bush  and  low-trailed  trel- 
lis of  vine,  and  elegant  flowers  in  myriads  .  .  .  and 
canters  and  trots,  and  rears  and  plunges,  and  prances 
from  side  to  side,  and  caprioles  and  curvets  in  many  a 
way  ;  and  then  he  again  darts  thro'  the  murmuring  air 
like  the  arrow  or  eagle  in  full  sweep !  .  .  .  Now  he 
returns,  and  the  ground  rings  with  a  hail-like  patter  .  . 
how  rapidly  the  limbs  cleave  the  air  and  dash  away  the 
distance!  He's  near — with  shaking  neck  and  dancing 
nostrils  and  heaving  chest,  and  clouds  of  smoke,  and  coat 
so  wet  and  sable,  and  rich  with  masses  and  spots  and 
sprinklings  of  a  brilliant  and  restless  foam !  .  .  .  Tired 
of  sport,  he  suddenly  stops,  and  again  crops  the  emerald 
grass  and  delicious  flowrets,  and  even  bites  off  a  magnolia 
or  so  just  for  the  sake  of  variety — and  now  he  looks 
searchingly  over  the  twilight  sky  and  earth  ;  seeks  his 
mate  and  couch  ;  and  kneels  and  falls  asleep — sometimes 
to  dream  and  neigh  to  himself,  and  play  the  horse  som- 
nambule ! 

****** 

And  the  moon  shone  and  shone  on  the  artist's  figure, 
and  displayed  the  face  all  worn  and  corpse-like,  save 
when  the  scowl  and  grinding  of  the  teeth  signed  of  life, 
and  misery,  and  desperation.  What  so  racks  the  human 
spirit?  What  but  the  perishing  nature  of  shape  and 
color — the  oak  and  the  rose-tree  ;  the  superior  mind  and 
the  closest  love  t     *     *     * 

Notice  the  youth,  as  he  springs  (into  the  arms  of 
death)  from  the  tall  column — and  the  next,  as  he  cheer- 


234  an  artist's  reverie. 

fully  riddles  his  heart  with  the  swift-winged  ball — and 
the  mother,  who  breaks  up  life  in  the  womb ! 

****** 

But  who  is  it  now  that  shifts  creation's  glass  eccentri- 
cally— curdles  the  blood  of  the  helpless  babe  ;  takes  from 
the  fond  mother  her  only  child  ;  strikes  down  with  light- 
ning the  man  of  meridian  health  and  strength,  and  men- 
tal and  physical  majesty  and  beauty  ;  buries  whole  cities 
after  cities  with  flood,  with  lava,  and  the  earthquake ; 
and  drives  on  the  hurricane  to  rip-up  and  wither  and 
shiver  the  thousand-rooted  and  giant  tree  ?  Who  but 
the  Lord  God ! 

On  sweeps  the  spectral  image  train — the  headless  rider 
and  the  city  people-stript — the  howl,  the  hiss,  the  curse, 
the  intensly  piercing  scream,  and  peals  on  peals  of  blas- 
phemy .  .  .  and  a  host  of  shape  and  color  was  changed 
for  ashes  ! 

Up  draws  the  Decollator — and  Faliero  falls — and  Mas- 
aniello — and  St.  John — and  the  pure  and  brilliant  spirit 
of  Roland  receives  its  immortal  wings ! 

This  is  Mary  Stuart — that  child  of  beauty  and  mis- 
fortune— now  past  the  noon  of  life,  yet  still  retaining  a 
rare  loveliness  of  person  and  nobility  of  mien.  The  face 
is  scarcely  out  of  its  wonted  oval,  and  butior  a  flash  or  so 
of  scorn,  as  unruffled  as  the  sleeping  lake  ;  the  neck  arises 
from  its  throne  of  superb  mould,  with  a  grace  and  majesty 
that  dim  away  the  swan's  ;  the  nose  is  Grecian,  bent, 
almost  perceptlessly,  toward  the  aquiline  ;  the  mouth 
seems  Beatrice  de  Cenci's — so  beautiful's  the  form,  so 
lofty  the  expression  ;  the  lips  of  costliest  scarlet,  so  play 
on  strings  of  pearl. 

But  the  great  black  eyes  have  spent  their  lustre,  and 
the  weary  lids  drop  o'er  the  windows  of  the  soul,  as  the 
aged  Day  yearns  for  the  step  of  the  youthful  Night ; 


an  aetist's  reverie.  235 

whilst  the  silky  lashes  droop,  like  the  flowers  at  twilight, 
and  pencil  away  on  their  marble  sills  full  many  an  angel's 
wing!  But  where  are  the  roses  of  the  wall  beneath? 
Twined  round  the  torn-off  crown?  Stolen  by  sister 
queen  ?  Drowned  in  Lochlevin's  lake  ?  Or  do  they  deck 
the  Mercy  Seat — their  vase,  dear  Katharine  Seaton's 
heart? 

The  sable- velvet  gown  falls  in  with  the  ravishing  round- 
ness of  the  bosom  and  waist,  after  the  manner  of  the 
purest  ancient  statue,  and  tells,  all  feignlessly,  of  grace 
beneath — of  Nature's  unchecked  breath,  free  as  the  eagle's 
wing!  Nature  like  Ariadne's!  Nature  to  charm  Praxi- 
teles ! 

The  Oriental  waist-shawl  catches  up  the  gown,  and 
"  throws  "  (as  artists  say)  the  loop-like  folds  ;  but  in  bold 
and  brilliant  masses  fall  the  foldings  of  the  border  ;  and, 
at  the  wearer's  slightest  step,  they  start  their  thousand 
lights  and  lines  and  shadows  and  reflections  ;  and  leap 
and  glance,  take  voice,  and  lock  and  interlock,  and  stack 
their  arms ! 

The  neck  ruffs  very  richly  wrought ;  and  the  necklace 
(of  massive  pearl  and  gold)  suspends  a  heavy  crucifix, 
(in  ebony  and  ivory, )  lit  up  with  diamonds  !  (the  figure 
of  the  Saviour,  quite  a  miracle  of  Art ! ) 

The  profile  lines  race  closely  with  Apelles!  .  .  . 
But  the  fascinating  creature  scowls  at  the  touch  of  the 
executioner,  and  quietly.undresses  her  own  neck  for  the 
axe-blow ;  and,  as  soon  as  the  ruff  and  necklace  are 
gifted  away,  the  silky  hair,  escaping  its  fillet,  breathes 
freely,  and,  in  clusters,  and  with  many  a  wild,  wild  tress, 
sports  with  the  magnificent  turns  and  undulations  of  the 
snow-white  throat  and  shoulders ! 

She  bids  farewell  to  friends  and  servitors,  amidst  sobs, 


236  an  abttst's  reyerie. 

and  claspings,  and  re-claspings,  and  lip-touch  after  lip- 
touch,  and  close  imitations  of  death — herself  alone  support- 
ing the  tearless  eye,  the  philosophic  word,  the  untremu- 
lous  nerve,  and  a  radiance  of  countenance  as  fretless  as 
the  heavens  beyond  the  clouds ! 

A  rainbow  on  the  face  !  a  desert  in  the  heart !  a  brain, 
a  crowd  of  lightnings,  thunderings,  and  awful  voices.  A 
thousand  jangling  harps  !  Music  !  but  clothed  in  mourn- 
ning — the  lute !  but  out  of  season. 

A  fretless  radiance  of  countenance !  whilst  love  and 
hate  and  pride  and  jealousy  and  victory  lie  like  Tityus  on 
the  rock — and  ghosts  like  these  start  up — the  laughing 
child-like  years  and  sunny  clime — the  floors  of  hell-stain- 
ed blood — the  icy,  calculating  virgin-queen — and  Beauty's 
Church,  so  thronged  with  real  worshipers — and  voices 
from  the  heavens  themselves,  ( such  cool  and  measured 
voices  !)  saying  :  "  As  a  drop  of  water  into  the  sea,  so 
are  a  thousand  years  to  the  days  of  eternity !  When  a 
bird  flyeth  thro'  the  air,  there  remains  no  token  of  her 
pathway  :  'tis  as  dust  blown  away  with  the  passing  wind ! 
If  ye  desire  thrones  and  sceptres  ;  honor  Wisdom ;  and 
reign  forever  !"....  And  the  closing  voice  fell 
upon  the  listener's  heart  as  its  Door  of  Dante  ! 

Yes  ;  "thine  Almighty  word  leapt  down  from  heaven 
out  of  the  royal  throne,  as  a  fierce  man  of  war  into  the 
midst  of  a  land  of  destruction  !  " 

The  officers  of  the  crown  closely  watch  their  watches — 
the  sufferer  has  yet  a  moment  or  so  to  live  ;  looks  pierc- 
ingly at  the  heavens,  and  is  alone  with  her  all  seeing,  all 
powerful  parent.  .  .  .  But  she's  prostrate  ;  the  dark  and 
silvery  hair's  thrust  out  the  axe  road — the  neck's  quite  fit- 
ted to  the  block.  Lo !  she  listens  .  .  .  locks  her 
teeth  ;  and  then  re-listens  ;  whilst  the  blade  gets  poised  ; 


AN  abttst's  reverie.  237 

and  swung  aloft ;    and  then  swept   down    .     .    yes ; 
thrice  swept  down ! 

Off  rolls  the  royal  head — to  be  grasped  up  by  the  hair 
and  anathematized,  whilst  the  waxy  eyes  and  ashy  lips  still 
quiver  and  strive  to  return  to  life  .  .  the  limbs  give 
frightful  jerks,  and  beat  about ;  and  the  trunk  takes  a 
leaden-sounding  writhe,  as  its  blood  spirts  and  wells  up, 
and  tumbles,  and  gets  shed  like  tears  .  .  .  lesser  con- 
vulsions follow,  and  the  slightest  tremors  and  nutterings, 
until  all  is  still — save  the  sheet  wrapping,  coffining  off, 
embalmment,  lying  in  bloody  state,  magnificent  entomb- 
ment, and  record  on  the  page  of  story.  But  stay — till  I 
lift  that  hand,  so  pale,  so  statuesque,  such  tapering  fin- 
gers— and  lay  from  off  the  face  these  clotted  locks — and 
peer  about  the  pinched-in  nostrils,  faded  lips,  and  eyes 
barred  down,  till  Time  shall  be  no  more  !  .  .  And  let 
me  cry  unto  the  mountains  and  the  rocks,  "  Fall  on  us ! 
but  hurt  not  the  earth,  neither  the  sea  nor  the  trees." 


SCENES  FROM  CITY  PRACTICE. 


A  TKIAL  FOR  CHILD-MURDER— THE  VALUE  OF  EVIDENCE— CRIMINAL  LAW  HELP- 
LESS WITHOUT  PHYSIOLOGICAL  EVIDENCE. 

The  great  question  after  all,  is  to  determine  to  what 
extent  man  is  accountable  for  his  actions.  Casuists  have 
been  hammering  away  at  it — moralists  have  written — 
philanthropists  have  sacrificed  their  lives — judges  have 
been  gowned  and  wigged — codes  of  laws,  in  endless  pro- 
fusion, have  been  made — prisons  and  dungeons  have 
been  built — scaffolds  elevated — but  Christ  has  told  us, 
"  Unto  whomsoever  much  is  given,  of  him  much  will  be  re- 
quired ;"  and  both  our  hearts  and  our  heads  tell  us,  that 
there  is  a  wide  ocean  between  the  responsibility  of  men. 
It  is  useless  to  discuss  the  question  of  punishment ;  our 
object  is  to  open  a  few  pages  of  medical  experience  in  the 
matter  of  jury  trials,  and  the  value  of  evidence,  and  let 
the  reader  form  what  conclusion  he  pleases  ;  it  matters 
not  to  us  a  pin's  point,  whether  his  delicate  nerves  are 
shocked,  or  his  heart  bleeds.  We  had  painfully  to  gather 
our  own  experience,  and  although  its  product  has  not 
proved  worthy  of  a  Solomon  or  a  Howard,  we  belong  to  the 
common  herd  of  humanity,  and  must  of  necessity  leave  our 
own  lights  and  shadows  for  a  few  fleeting  moments  on 
its  surface,  ere  we  are  swept  onward  to  the  great  ocean 
of  eternity,  and  are  no  longer  able  to  efface  our  errors. 

We  would  not  willingly  leave  a  spot  of  perfect  black- 
ness— "none  are  all  evil" — and  if  there  be  found  in  these 


i 


A  TRIAL  FOR  CHILD-MURDER.  239 

sketches  anything  unredeemed  by  humanitary  motives, 
we  would  rather  it  were  placed  to  the  account  of  tempo- 
rary insanity,  however  needful  it  may  be  in  one  not  over- 
stocked with  the  commodity,  to  preserve  what  brains  he 
may  have  in  tolerable  working  order. 

Well  satisfied,  then,  as  we  are,  that  wide  differences 
exist  in  the  power  to  appreciate  evil,  we  have  always 
felt  the  responsibility  of  our  position,  when  called  into 
court  to  testify  in  cases  of  child-murder.  The  awful 
character  of  such  a  crime  against  nature,  such  a  desecra- 
tion of  that  holy  and  subduing  passion,  a  mother's  love 
for  her  helpless  child,  has  always  made  us  look  with  curi- 
ous wonder  upon  the  face  of  her  who  is  charged  with 
such  a  crime.  The  sight  of  the  little  creature,  so  myste- 
riously elaborated  from  her  very  heart's  blood,  after  she 
has  heard  its  first  cry,  and  felt  its  breath  against  her 
cheek — sweeter  by  far  than  that  of  an  angel's  wing — one 
would  think  should  protect  its  life,  like  the  sword  of  Heav- 
en over  the  gate  of  Paradise.  And  so  it  would,  were  it 
not  for  the  awful  consequences  of  uncontrolled  passion 
and  biting  poverty.  Many  a  mother,  too,  whose  heart's 
blood  is  frozen  by  fashion,  and  who  anticipates  her  child's 
birth  by  destruction,  is  quite  as  guilty  as  she  who,  hav- 
ing listened  to  some  serpent  of  our  own  sex,  seeks  to  re- 
move the  evidence  of  her  folly  by  destroying  her  living 
offspring.  How,  then,  can  those  officers  of  the  law, 
whose  business  it  is  to  seek  out  the  poor  trembling  wretch, 
with  her  life-blood  thinned  by  starvation  and  imprison- 
ment, and  a  gallows  before  her  eyes — how  can  they  de- 
mand of  her,  with  equal  justice,  the  same  estimate  of  the 
value  of  that  sacred  life  she  has  assisted  to  produce  ?  No, 
no  ;  depend  upon  it,  the  law  may  find  it  necessary  to 
mete  out  but  one  punishment,  but  a  humane  jury  will 
not  be  driven  by  its  iron  spur.  We  remember  with  great 
11 


240  A  TKIAL  FOR  CHILD-MURDER. 

pleasure  the  humanity  of  the  late  Judge  Edwards,  and 
Nathaniel  Blunt,  the  District  Attorney,  and  her  counsel, 
A.  A.  Phillips,  in  conducting  the  case  of  an  unfortunate 
woman  accused  of  child-murder.  "We  felt  bound  to  at- 
tend to  the  requisition  of  these  gentlemen,  as  medical 
counsel,  and  they  aided  collectively  in  giving  us  a  high- 
er estimate  of  legal  character,  than  what  we  have  been 
wont  to  feel  when  witnessing  the  frequent  efforts  of  an- 
other District  Attorney  to  hunt  some  trembling  wretch 
to  the  foot  of  the  gallows.  Let  it  be  a  lesson  to  those 
ambitious  of  such  legal  triumphs. 

"  Mercy  to  him  that  shows  it  is  the  rule, 
And  righteous  limitation  of  its  act, 
By  which  Heaven  moves  in  pardoning  guilty  man  ; 
And  he  that  shows  none,  being  ripe  in  years, 
And  conscious  of  the  outrage  he  commits, 
Shall  seek  it,  and  not  find  it,  in  his  turn." 

One  day,  some  ten  years  since,  I  received  a  note  from 
the  gentlemen  above  named,  requesting,  in  terms  of 
pleasing  though  unmerited  compliment,  what  aid  and 
counsel  I  could  give  in  the  second  trial  of  a  wretched  and 
friendless  outcast  from  Germany,  who  was  accused  of 
causing  the  death  of  her  newly-born  child  either  by  neg- 
lecting to  give  it  the  immediate  attention  it  required,  or 
by  willfully  throwing  it,  while  yet  alive,  into  the  privy. 

Accustomed  as  I  have  ever  been  to  respond  to  such 
calls,  I  did  not  feel  willing  to  refuse,  although  I  knew 
there  were  many  young  men  quite  as  competent,  and 
with  more  leisure  than  myself,  who  could  fulfill  all  the 
requirements  of  the  case,  without  any  loss  not  amply 
repaid  by  the  interest  and  publicity  arising  from  a  trial 
for  murder,  in  which  their  talents  were  judged  of  suffi- 
cient value  to  be  summoned  by  the  State.  The  reader 
will  please  to  remember,  that  in  a  city  like  this,  where 


A  TRIAL  FOR  CHILD-MURDER.  241 

official  corruption  is  so  common  that  it  is  almost  a  dis- 
grace to  belong  to  the  municipal  government,  and  where 
the  vilest  quack,  and  mere  nostrum-seller,  is  sure  of  the 
aid  of  the  press  to  any  extent  his  money  will  afford,  and 
almost  certain  if  he  call  in  its  vigorous  and  philanthropic 
'  assistance  to  a  sufficient  extent,  of  fame  and  fortune,  the 
most  brilliant  medical  intellect,  and  the  warmest  heart, 
may  pine  and  die  in  obscurity.  He  sees  the  places  of 
coroners,  health-officers,  and  street-inspectors,  usurped 
by  the  keepers  of  brothels  and  bar-rooms,  who  peculate 
the  public  funds,  whilst  the  murderer  goes  free,  and  pes- 
tilent poisons  fill  the  highways  and  riot  in  the  alms- 
houses. Gladly,  then,  will  the  young  practitioner  avail 
himself  of  every  opportunity  to  make  a  fickle  and  igno- 
norant  public  aware,  through  the  columns  of  a  venal 
press,  of  the  fact  of  his  existence  and  attainments,  in  an 
overlooked,  and,  for  the  most  part,  poorly  qualified,  pro- 
fession. 

I  repaired  to  the  court-room,  and  listened  to  the  open- 
ing of  the  case,  and  the  evidence  for  the  State.  It  ap- 
peared from  the  indictment,  that  Margaret  Morrell,  an 
unmarried  German  woman,  the  mother,  of  an  idiot  boy  of 
some  ten  years,  who  was  present  in  the  court-room,  and 
playing  listlessly  with  some  bits  of  paper  at  her  feet,  had 
been  the  occupant  of  a  miserable  garret  beneath  the 
eaves  of  an  old  dilapidated  house  in  Canal  Street ;  that 
one  day  in  January,  at  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning,  two 
laboring  men  residing  in  the  same  house,  crossing  the 
yard,  observed  spots  of  blood  on  the  newly-fallen  snow, 
and  were  attracted  thereby  to  the  privy,  whence  they 
heard  cries  issuing,  so  loud  as  to  resemble  those  of  "  a 
cat  upon  the  house-top ;"  on  looking  down,  they  per- 
ceived the  infant.  An  alarm  was  given,  and  the  body 
being  raised,  was  found  with  its  face  disfigured  by  rats, 


242  THE  VALUE  OF  EVIDENCE. 

and,  it  seems,  quite  dead.  It  was  proved  that  the  unfor- 
tunate woman  had  been  locked  in  her  room  for  the 
afternoon  and  night  preceding  the  morning  when  the 
child's  body  was  found;  but  that  she  had  been  heard 
coming  down  stairs  at  four  o'clock,  and  seen  with  a  pail 
going  to  the  privy.  On  the  top  of  a  stove,  a  large  mass 
of  coagulated  blood  was  found ;  and  on  the  wall,  blood 
had  evidently  spirted  out  from  a  cut  artery,  showing  the 
full  action  of  the  heart.  The  child  was  proved  to  have 
respired  freely,  because  the  lungs  floated  in  water,  which 
they  do  not  do  when  undecayed,  and  from  a  child  born 
dead.  The  umbilical  cord,  by  which  it  receives  the 
mother's  blood  during  its  intra-uterine  life,  had  evidently 
been  cut  with  a  knife  or  scissors,  but  had  not  been  tied. 

The  usual  evidences  were  presented,  on  examination,  of 
the  birth  of  a  child.  On  this  evidence  the  state  rested 
the  case  ;  and  it  seemed  likely  that  but  a  short  time 
would  seal  the  poor  creature's  fate,  and  a  few  weeks  more 
close  her  wretched  pilgrimage  on  the  gallows. 

During  the  rendering  of  this  evidence,  I  often  looked 
at  her  with  curious  wonder.  There  she  sat,  with  hei 
pale  face  and  mild  blue  eye,  clothed  in  rags,  her  poor 
idiot  child  playing  about  her  feet,  and  ever  and  anon 
looking  up  into  her  face  with  unmeaning  gaze,  and  pull- 
ing her  ragged  gown  ;  neither  hope,  love,  nor  fear  were 
there  ;  all  seemed  weary,  worn,  and  desolate.  What 
mattered  it  to  her  what  all  these  busy  and  anxious-look- 
ing people  were  about  ?  The  judge  was  neither  gowned 
nor  wigged,  but  his  mild  and  handsome  face  was  very 
manly,  and  often  rested  pleasantly  and  encouragingly 
upon  the  prisoner.  Alack  for  her,  the  jury  had  once  re- 
mained all  night  in  deliberation  on  her  case,  and  could 
not  agree  ;  it  was  too  evident  that  the  poor  creature's 
life  was  in  great  jeopardy.     Once  or  twice  I  saw  the  sad 


SCENE  m  A  CRIMINAL  COURT. 

wan  face  hidden  in  the  folds  of  the  tattered  shawl,  and 
thought  she  trembled  ;  perhaps  a  pang  shot  through  the 
poor  heart  at  the  thought  of  the  babe  that  might  have 
been  nestling  over  it ;  perhaps  she  thought  of  the  fate  of 
her  poor  boy  when  the  law  should  have  cut  off  her  life  ; 
but  in  a  moment  the  bloodless  face  and  heavy  eyelids 
were  again  exposed  in  unmeaning  vacuity.     Why  was  I 
excited  for  her  ?     I  could  not,  of  course,  feel  that  interest 
I  should  have  done,  had  I  been   satisfied  of  her  inno- 
cence ;   and  yet  I  could  not  believe  her  as  guilty,  even 
though  I  had  been  certain  she  committed  the  crime,  as 
any  other  woman  accused  of  a  similar  one,  I  had  even 
seen — she  was  so  utterly  wretched  and  desolate.     What 
had  she  to  give  it  ?     The  starved  and  watery  blood  must 
have  been  very  scant,  and  flowed  feebly  to  the  withered 
breasts  beneath  that  tattered  shawl.     Alas!   there  was 
no  place  for  the  poor  beggar-child  ;  but  all  are  alike  in 
death  ;  its  handful  of  dust  would  make  beautiful  flowers 
for  a  bridal  wreath  ;  or,  perchance,  to  deck  the  tomb  of 
some  child  of  wealth,  better  worth  a  mother's  love.     Yet, 
wretched  as  she  was,  one  helpless  child  looked  to  her  for 
aid  ;  its  light  of  reason  feeble,  it  is  true,  but  who  knows 
how  closely  it  may  have  wound  itself  around  her  heart  ? 
Who  can  tell  what    pleasant  memories  of  the   Father- 
land the  poor  boy  brought  up  in  dreams  on  her  pallet 
of  straw?    I  felt  that  I  had  a  sacred  duty  to  perform. 
The  testimony  of  the  highly  accomplished  medical  gen- 
tleman who   was    now    examined,   and  who   had  been 
called  by  the  State  Attorney,  showed  clearly  to  the  jury 
that  the  child  had  been  born  alive  and  respired  vigor- 
ously ;    the  lungs,  when  taken  from  the  body,  crepitated 
under  the  knife,  as  physiologists  say  when  they  crackle 
from  the  air  that  escapes  from  them  when  cut,  and  they 
floated  in  water  both  when  whole  and  when  cut  in  pieces, 


244  THE   HEAET  BEFOEE  BIRTH. 

thus  proving  that  they  had  been  filled  with  air.  My  heart 
sank  ;  it  was  awful  for  the  poor  creature  ;  death  stared 
her  in  the  face.  The  District  Attorney  now  asked  the  doc- 
tor whether  blood  could  have  flowed  to  the  amount  found 
on  the  stove,  and  whether  it  would  have  spirted  forth 
from  the  divided  arteries  of  the  cord  against  the  wall, 
if  the  heart  had  not  acted  vigorously  at  birth?  He 
answered  unhesitatingly,  No :  it  was  too  true.  As 
yet  I  saw  no  hope  from  any  question  I  might  sug- 
gest, when  a  lucky  thought  occurred  to  me.  Those 
who  have  read  the  articles  on  the  structure  and  func- 
tions of  the  heart  before  birth,  will  remember  that  it 
is  so  arranged  till  the  moment  of  birth,  that  there  are  vir- 
tually but  two  of  its  cavities  in  action,  the  two  that  are 
appointed  for  filling  the  lungs  not  being  used  for  that 
purpose  till  after  birth,  but  both  aiding  the  other  two 
to  circulate  the  blood  through  the  infant's  body  ;  for 
this  purpose  there  is  a  valve  between  the  two  upper 
chambers  of  the  heart.  At  the  moment  of  birth,  the 
blood  rushes  into  and  distends  the  infant's  lungs,  and 
closes  this  valve.  Sometimes,  and  in  no  mean  propor- 
tion of  cases,  this  valve  fails  to  remain  closed,  and  thus 
the  lungs,  which  at  the  moment  of  birth  received  a  full 
supply  of  blood,  soon  feel  the  diminished  quantity  ;  the 
child,  which  at  the  moment  of  birth  cried  and  breathed 
vigorously,  soon  suffers  seriously  from  want  of  breath, 
because  when  the  lungs  do  not  receive  their  proper  quan- 
tum of  blood,  the  arteries  and  veins  which  convey  it 
through  them,  become  distended  and  congested  as  we 
say,  thus  keeping  out  the  air.  The  physician,  fortunately, 
had  not  examined  the  heart  at  all !  Here  was  a  great 
point.  At  my  suggestion  he  was  asked  the  proportion  of 
cases  in  which  it  was  not  fully  closed  for  several  days. 
The  Doctor  admitted  it  to  be  of  frequent  occurrence,  but 


MEDICO-LEGAL  KNOWLEDGE  A  DUTY.  245 

could  not  answer  definitely ;   the  proportion  is   one  in 
five. 

I  now  suggested  to  the  poor  woman's  counsel  to  ask 
him  whether  the  profuse  bleeding  of  the  cord  would  not 
greatly  aid  in  paralyzing  respiration.  Of  course,  it  was 
admitted  to  be  so.  Here  was  a  fresh  hope.  "Who  could 
say  that  she  knew  the  child  would  bleed  to  death,  if  she 
did  not  tie  the  cord  ;  and  how  could  we  know  but  this 
valve  remained  open,  and  with  the  aid  of  the  bleeding 
cord,  effectually  cut  off  the  supply  of  blood  to  the  lungs, 
deprived  the  muscles  that  raised  the  ribs  of  their  power 
to  act,  and  thus  rendered  suffocation  sure !  I  felt  great 
hope  ;  and  her  counsel  smiled  complacently,  as  he  opened 
the  defence.  I  looked  at  the  kind  Judge,  and  District 
Attorney,  (alas!  both  are  dust  now,)  and  they  seemed 
pleased ;  the  jury,  also,  were  evidently  relieved.  I  will 
not  follow  Mr.  Phillips  through  the  examination  of  the 
witnesses.  I  did  what  I  could  to  explain  the  functions 
of  the  heart  to  the  jury  ;  the  closing  address  to  them  ex- 
presses the  whole  of,  the  convincing  testimony,  which, 
because  it  was  not  properly  called  forth  on  the  first  trial, 
had  nearly  sent  this  poor  creature  to  the  gallows  or  State 
Prison.  Let  it  serve  to  show  legal  and  medical  men  the 
sacredness  of  their  duties.  The  counsel  spoke  with  great 
feeling  of  her  industrious^and  inoffensive  character,  drew 
attention  to  her  lone  and  friendless  condition,  com- 
mented upon  the  testimony  wherever  it  appeared  lame 
or  contradictory,  and  so  adroitly  used  the  medical  evi- 
dence as  to  convince  them,  that  if  the  child  had  really 
been  alive  at  the  moment,  that  it  died  within  a  few  min- 
utes after  birth  ;  and  that  her  lone  and  friendless  condi- 
tion, her  bodily  weakness  and  evident  ignorance,  would 
amply  account  for  the  neglect  of  those  attentions  which 
would  have  preserved  its  life.     Another  fact  will  utterly 


246  MEDICO-LEGAL  KNOWLEDGE  A  DUTY. 

destroy  the  value  of  the  contradictory  testimony  of  the 
two  well-meaning  but  ignorant  Frenchmen,  who  had  evi- 
dently forgotten  on  the  second  trial  what  they  said  on 
the  first,  viz.,  "  That  they  were  attracted  to  the  place  by 
cries  so  loud,  that  they  mistook  them  for  those  of  a  cat 
on  the  house-top."  "  You  will  also  remember,  gentlemen 
of  the  jury,  that  one  of  those  men  swore  positively  that 
the  face  of  the  infant  was  downward,  and  the  other  one 
that  it  was  upward ;  and  that  he  saw  its  mouth  move 
with  great  distinctness,  as  it  cried.  This,  you  will  re- 
member, gentlemen,  was  at  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning ; 
but  it  has  been  proved  that  it  was  four  o'clock  when  the 
poor  creature  went  to  the  privy  with  the  pail,  and  that 
she  immediately  returned  to  her  room,  and  was  not 
again  seen  till  found  locked  in  by  the  officers,  shivering 
and  starving  in  her  wretched  garret,  with  her  idiot  boy. 
Now,  gentlemen,  I  have  shown  you  by  the  weather-register 
of  the  New  York  Hospital  on  that  morning  the  thermome- 
ter was  at  zero.  I  ask  you  whether  an  infant  already  de- 
prived of  half  its  blood,  with  that  great  engine  of  its  life- 
power,  the  heart,  fluttering  for  want  of  its  distending 
fluid,  its  face  disfigured  by  rapacious  vermin — I  ask  you 
whether  that  child,  with  its  natural  temperature  of 
nearly  a  hundred  degrees,  could  have  remained  in  an 
open  sink,  scarcely  covered  by  a  half  destroyed  shanty, 
from  four  o'clock  till  seven,  of  a  bitter  cold  January 
morning,  and  then  have  uttered  a  cry  as  loud  as  that  of 
1  a  cat  upon  the  house-top  ?'  I  think  I  can  safely  antici- 
pate your  verdict.  I  will  assure  you,  we  do  not  doubt 
that  the  child  was  born  alive  ;  kind  nature  had  inclosed 
it  with  the  protecting  arms  of  her  wonderful  love  ;  within 
that  poor  shivering  body,  it  derived  '  security  from  the 
wintry  blast ;'  but,  alas !  man,  less  kind  than  a  beneficent 
Creator,  though  he  had  made  provision  for  the  beggar- 


A  BEAUTIFUL  APPEAL.  247 

child,  had  not  surrounded  the  alms-house  with  much 
attractiveness,  nor  did  its  position  render  it  very  accessi- 
ble to  the  poor  mother,  who  could  not  even  speak  her 
need  intelligibly  to  those  who  control  it ;  the  law,  it  is 
true,  with  sagacity,  demands  provision  of  clothing  to  be 
made  by  her  who  knows  a  living  child  will  soon  require 
it.  Yet  the  poor  creature  may  have  designed  to  seek 
from  the  hand  of  charity  such  aid  as  it  should  require, 
had  it  lived.  You  see,  gentlemen,  by  her  own  and  her 
poor  boy's  clothing,  she  is  not  very  proud ;  a  resting- 
place,  a  few  rags,  and  a  morsel  of  food,  is  all  that  such  as 
she  can  expect.  I  trust,  then,  that  you  will  give  due 
weight  to  her  poverty,  when  contemplating  this  point, 
which,  I  doubt  not,  you  will  hear  urged  by  the  two  gen- 
tlemen to  whose  courtesy  I  have  been  already  so  much 
indebted,  and  whose  humanity  is  too  intimately  mingled 
with  their  knowledge  of  the  law,  to  permit  the  least  fear 
on  my  part  that  the  case  will  not  be  righteously  presented 
for  your  final  verdict ;  for,  gentlemen,  you  will  please  to 
remember,  I  have  no  exceptions  to  offer,  and  I  hope  you 
will  not  again  disagree.  Your  verdict  must  be  final ;  a 
life  of  toiL  and  her  rags  and  crust  of  bread — a  gallows, 
or  at  least  a  living  grave,  awaits  and  must  follow  your  ver- 
dict. Her  poor  idiot  boy  may  miss  the  face  he  has  been 
so  long  accustomed  to  look  to  as  a  solace  in  his  childish 
grief,  but  no  one  else  will ;  her  dust  will  mingle  in  the 
beggar's  grave  with  that  of  her  poor  infant,  and  soon  all 
will  be  forgotten — all  but  that  small  silent  voice  which 
will  come  to  you  when  none  is  near  but  your  own  hearts, 
and  breathe  into  your  ears,  '  For  unto  whomsoever  much 
is  given,  of  him  much  will  be  required.'  "  I  looked  at  the 
jury  with  trembling  hope  ;  several  of  them  were  in  tears  ; 
poor  Blunt,  who  had  given  a  very  fair  charge,  (God  bless 
11* 


248  THE  VERDICT. 

his  kind  heart  his  memory  is  very  pleasant  to  me,) 
required  his  pocket  handkerchief  very  suddenly ; 
Judge  Edwards  gave  a  very  dignified,  just  and  feeling 
charge  ;  the  jury  were  absent  but  a  few  minutes,  and 
returned  with  a  verdict  of  not  guilty.  My  heart  was 
glad. 


BEAR-BAITING   IN  THE   STAR-CHAMBER. 

LIFE    SKETCHES    OF    THE    NEW  YOKK    PHYSICIANS. 


"  Why  do  your  dogs  bark  so  ?    Be  there  bears  In  the  town?" 

"  I  think  there  are,  sir ;  I  heard  them  talked  of." 

"I  love  the  sport  well." 

"You  are  afraid,  if  you  see  the  bear  are  loose,  are  you  not?" 

Mekky  Wives  op  Windsor. 

When  the  court  of  Rome  concocted  the  "  Expurgatori- 
um,"  with  the  view  of  preserving  the  strength  and  purity  of 
their  holy  influence  over  the  people,  and  giving  the  Devil 
the  benefit  of  such  seditious  heretical  intellectual  efforts 
as  popular  indignation  and  ferment  brought  to  the  sur- 
face of  the  public  caldron,  they  were  the  unconscious 
progenitors  of  an  institution  that  had  its  origin  some 
few  hundred  years  later,  and  at  one  period  of  its  exist- 
ence was  illumined  by  the  presence  of  Justice  Shallow, 
Esq.,  "  Cust-alorum,"  and  if  we  may  believe  Cousin  Slen- 
der, "  a  gentleman  born  ;"  who  wrote  himself  "Armigero 
in  any  bill,  warrant,  quittance,  or  obligation,  Armigero" 
This  worthy  gentleman,  whose  high  privilege  it  was  to 
show  the  "  dozen  white  luces  in  his  coat,"  (pray  heaven, 
dear  reader,  for  the  honor  of  the  Academy,  don't  alter 
the  orthography  of  the  emblem,  as  did  Sir  Hugh)  although 
— we  breathe  it  softly,  we  are  not  quite  sure,  from  the 
seedy  appearance  of  some  of  the  members,  but  they  are 
quite  able  to  match  the  proud  badge  in  its  more  familiar 
orthography,  and  to  say  with  him,  "  it  is  a  familiar  beast 


250  BEAR-BAITING   IN  THE  STAR-CHAMBER. 

to  man,  and  signifies  love  " — this  worthy  gentleman,  was 
quite  as  conscious  of  the  dignity  of  the  court  before  whom 
he  recounted  his  wrongs,  and  sought  redress  from  the 
incursions  of  the  fat  knight,  as  we  are  of  the  amazing 
effrontery  of  our  occasional  display  of  some  of  the  pas- 
times of  the  "  Armigeros  "  of  the  New  York  Academy  of 
Medicine  ;  but  they  are  so  diverting,  that  for  the  soul  of 
us  we  can't  help  it ;  and  so,  with  our  most  profound 
regards,  dearly  beloved  brethren,  hold  up  your  heads, 
for  we  are  going  to  prescribe  for  you. 

This  illustrious  body  of  Savans,  originated  from  the 
ruins  of  the  Medical  Society  of  the  City  of  New  York  ;  an 
institution  embalmed  in  the  memory  of  every  venerable 
Esculapian  who  had  an  eye  for  the  fancy.  The  brethren 
were  jogging  on  in  the  good  old  way,  with  their  lancets, 
Dover's  powders,  jalap  and  calomel  XX  and  XX,  always 
ready,  and  relating  their  "  wonderful  cases  "  over  their 
whisky-toddy,  when  that  precious  old  charlatan,  Hahne- 
mann, whom  we  greatly  affection  for  his  genius  and  pro- 
found knowledge  of  human  nature,  loomed  up  from  the 
mists  of  Germany,  and  threatened  to  obscure  the  corus- 
cations of  that  galaxy  of  science — that  Koh-i-noor  of 
medical  learning,  that  monthly  irradiated  the  chambers 
of  the  old  Marine  Court !  But  when  the  cunning  peas- 
ant, Priessnitz,  threatened  to  drown  even  the  remnants 
of  the  rays  that  illumined  their  temple,  and  the  shadows 
of  the  departed  worth  of  a  Mitchell,  a  Pascalis,  and  an 
Osborn,  yet  haunted  the  classic  shades  of  the  Pewter 
Mug  and  the  Shakspeare,  their  "esprit  de  corps"  was 
excited  to  a  degree  that  was  supposed  incompatible  with 
their  former  vis  inertia,  and  they  resolved  to  make  a  grand 
effort  to  save  the  ship.  About  this  time  (we  well  remem- 
ber the  melancholy  day,)  we  were  summoned  by  the  usual 
annual  bull,  (a  medical  circular,)  threatening  the  direst 


BEAB-BAITING  IN  THE   STAK-CHAMBEE.  251 

pains  and  penalties  for  failing  to  enroll  ourselves  with 
the  illustrious  body  of  the  brethren,  and  assured  that  our 
non-compliance  would  forthwith  be  followed  by  a  suit  at 
law,  and  the  certainty  of  being  mulcted  in  so  unheard-of 
a  sum,  that  we  were  fain  to  make  our  first  visit  to  the 
menagerie  to  see  the  Simia  in  full  and  grand  council. 
Never  shall  we  forget  the  scene  that  burst  upon  our 
astonished  vision.  Had  we  actually  beheld  the  horned 
beast  of  the  Apocalypse,  we  could  not  have  been  more 
thunderstruck!  "We  felt  inclined  to  exclaim  with  the 
poet — "  Obstupui !  steteruntque  comse,  et  vox  faucibus 
haesit,"  that  is  to  say,  in  more  elegant  English,  I  was 
dumbfounded ;  my  hair  stood  up  like  the  bristles  of  a 
fighting-pig,  and  the  devil  a  word  could  I  get  out.  An 
immense  specimen  of  the  brotherhood  from  the  far  West^ 
(a  recent  importation  to  the  menagerie,  and  a  perfect 
ursus  horribilis)  had  seized  upon  a  miserable  cub  of  local 
origin,  and  holding  him  about  midway  by  the  most  adhe- 
sive portion  of  his  inexpressibles,  face  adown,  was  vigor- 
ously applying  his  other  paw  to  that  most  sensitive  part 
of  his  anatomy — the  gluteal  region.  "When  he  had  well 
nigh  whipped  the  life  out  of  the  wretched  little  cub,  he 
tossed  him  over  the  railing  at  the  very  feet  of  the  Presi- 
dent, and  looked  round  with  the  greatest  self-complacen- 
cy, licking  his  chaps  and  rubbing  his  huge  paws,  as  if  for 
some  more.  The  poor  little  creature,  like  Slender,  had 
caught  him  by  the  chain,  but  foregad,  he  found  him  no 
Sackerson.  All  was  as  silent  as  death  till  the  terrible 
animal  had  departed,  which  he  soon  did,  according  to 
the  usual  custom  of  the  creature,  on  observing  no  more 
assailants.  A  hat  was  handed  round  to  defray  the  ex- 
pense of  a  hack,  and  the  unfortunate  little  devil  of  a  doc- 
tor was  sent  home  to  his  affectionate  wife  in  a  very 
pitiable  condition.     The  meeting  dissolved  in  despair, 


252  BEAR-BAITING  IN  THE   STAB-CHAMBEB. 

and  we  saved  our  ten  dollars.  It  was  the  last  assemblage 
of  the  venerable  Medical  Society  of  the  City  and  County 
of  New  York.  The  brethren,  as  they  slowly  wended 
down  the  avenue,  may  have  impressively  uttered  the  ex- 
clamation, "  Ichabod,  Ichabod,  the  glory  of  my  house  is 
departed." 

As  soon  as  the  members  had  recovered  from  the  awful 
shock  of  so  terrible  an  exhibition,  in  view  of  the  impossi- 
bility of  regulating  the  diversion  by  a  proportional  selec- 
tion of  combatants,  and  the  prospective  arrival  of  more 
such  formidable  animals  from  the  far  West,  and  really, 
secretly  fearing  the  necessity  of  summoning  the  coroner, 
but  what  was  still  more  important,  considering  the  low 
state  of  the  treasury  and  the  high  price  of  oysters  and 
whisky,  with  the  absolute  derision  by  the  outsiders  of 
their  legal  threats  for  not  joining  and  paying  the  fee,  they 
put  their  heads  together  in  solemn  caucus,  and  concocted 
the  New  York  Academy  of  Medicine ! 

It  was  well  understood  by  the  projectors  of  this  glori- 
ous affair,  that  the  real  object  was  to  regulate  the  diver- 
sion of  medical  bear-baiting,  and  to  put  down  Homoeo- 
pathy, Hydropathy  and  any  other  roguery  than  such  as 
was  legitimately  hatched  at  home  and  in  the  regular 
way  ;  besides  keeping  a  wet  blanket  ready  for  any  aspir- 
ing cub  that  might  show  his  claws,  or  open  his  mouth 
in  public,  to  utter  any  heterodoxy  either  against  the 
lancet,  Dover's  powders,  XX  and  XX,  or  in  any  way  to 
dim  the  glory  of  Old  Fogiedom.  It  was  fondly  hoped 
that  the  imposing  appellation,  and  the  white  neckcloths 
and  gold-headed  canes  of  the  venerables,  would  keep  the 
cubs  in  leading-strings  at  least.  Alas,  for  the  mutability 
of  humanity!  Our  venerable  grandfather,  old  Adam, 
and  his  descendant  the  Devil,  soon  showed  they  had 
not  forgotten  their  beloved  medical  children.     Many  and 


BEAE-BAITTNG  IN  THE  STAB-CHAMBEB.  253 

infinitely  diverting  are  the  tricks  they  have  stoked  up  the 
brethren  to  commit.  A  general  hug  has  often  been  threat- 
ened, but  has  not  yet  come  off.  The  scene  we  gave  in 
our  last  was  the  nearest  approach  to  it,  but  the  badger 
showed  no  fight,  and  was  soon  earthed.  At  a  late  meet- 
ing, an  old  bruin  whose  claws  and  teeth  were  somewhat 
dull  from  long  use,  made  a  demonstration  towards  a  hug 
of  the  president  of  one  of  the  colleges,  who  had  been  a 
prominent  actor  in  giving  that  diploma  to  the  Aconitine 
Professor.  The  president,  however,  showed  the  white 
feather  and  turned  tail ;  whereupon  old  bruin  made  at 
him  again,  but  was  soon  muzzled  and  compelled  to  draw 
in  his  claws,  and  stop  growling  and  showing  his  teeth. 
This  old  gentleman  is  evidently  rejuvenating  and  prepar- 
ing for  combat,  and  we  may  soon  expect  sport  in  the  reg- 
ular old  way. 

But  these  general  descriptions  are  unsatisfactory  ;  the 
members  will  expect  individual  attention ;  we  are  quite 
aware  of  their  delicate  taste  in  literature,  and  feel  as 
usual  benevolently  disposed. 

The  speculative  pedestrian  whose  early  morning  walk 
led  him  through  Hudson  Street,  some  thirty  years  since, 
may  have  observed  a  dilapidated  gig,  that,  for  aught  its 
appearance  indicated  to  the  contrary,  might  have  been 
used  by  "Wouter  Van  Twiller,  or  Ichabod  Crane,  at  the 
least ;  how  it  got  there,  or  whom  it  belonged  to,  were 
two  questions  that  did  not  admit  of  the  same  facilities  of 

solution.    The  usual  brass  plate,  with  Dr. in  large 

letters,  directly  opposite  the  vehicle,  might  have  made 
the  latter  sufficiently  clear  ;  but  the  absence  of  the  con- 
comitant quadruped,  forbade  the  solution  of  the  former. 
It  was  one  morning  our  good  fortune  to  be  the  observer 
of  a  scene  not  so  easily  forgotten  by  a  lover  of  fun,  that 
made  the  whole  matter  perfectly  clear,     The  machine 


254:  BEAR-BAITING  IN  THE   STAR-CHAMBER. 

was  ready  for  motion  ;  the  "  thills  "  and  an  antediluvian 
collar  and  breeching,  encircled  the  skeleton  and  ligamen- 
tous mechanism  of  an  animal  that  a  hasty  observer  might 
have  been  at  a  loss  to  classify  ;  but  for  our  humble  self, 
being  at  that  moment  engaged  in  the  study  of  compara- 
tive anatomy,  and  having  enjoyed  the  opportunity  of  a 
few  post-mortems  of  more  highly  organized  specimens  of 
the  quadruped,  with  our  friend  Grice  of  veterinary  noto- 
riety, we  were  at  no  loss  to  pronounce  it  a  horse  ;  or  at 
least  that  it  once,  under  happier  auspices,  had  been  a 
tolerable  specimen  of  the  genus.  The  horse-market, 
where  such  samples  of  the  quadruped  are  generally  ob- 
tained, not  ordinarily  supplying  better  specimens  of  the 
commodity. 

It  was  in  the  month  of  December,  and  the  absence  of 
any  visible  structure  in  which  the  animal  may  be  sup- 
posed to  have  been  accommodated,  left  the  beholder  in 
doubt  whether  his  remaining  powers,  after  the  previous 
day's  toil,  had  not  been  expended  in  going  the  length  of 
the  hall  and  descending  the  three  steps  of  his  master's 
residence,    after  a  night's    lodging  in  the  back    yard. 
However  this  matter  may  yet  be  determined  by  the  curi- 
ous equi-medico-archseological  inquirer,  it  is  very  certain 
that  owing  to  the  weakness  from  long  use  of  the  rope- 
gearing  that  suspended  the  ponderous  thills  to  the  sad- 
dle, and  thus  brought  the  feeble  muscular  power  of  the 
wretched  animal  to  resist  the   earthward  tendency  of 
the  enormous  vehicle — the  rope  on  one  side  gave  way, 
the  corresponding  thill  fell  to  the  fetlock  of  the  quadru- 
ped, and  the  opposite  one  being  elevated  against  the 
unusually  upraised  neck,  the  poor  creature  was  caught 
like  the  fingers  of  a  thoughtless  boy  between  the  widely 
dissevered  Hmbs  of  a  pop-gun,  and  the  glacial  condition 
of  the  pavement,  peculiar  to  the  season,  favoring  the 


BEAR-BAITING  IN   THE   STAR-CHAMBER.  255 

catastrophe,  the  equine  anatomy  was  carried  off  its  legs, 
and  thrown  sidewise  and  helpless  upon  the  pavement, 
the  thills  holding  him  in  their  embrace  like  a  clothes-pin. 
What  was  to  be  done  ?  Here  was  a  predicament.  The 
owner — God  help  us,  beloved! — we  have  described  the 
horse  before  his  master  ;  let  us  remedy  the  error  as  far  as 
possible,  and  offer  our  humble  apology  to  the  academi- 
cian.    Dr.  came  o'er  the  sea  from  Auld  Reekie, 

some  forty  years  since,  where  he  had  followed  the  occu- 
pation of  a  plaa-sterer  ;  finding  the  ground  comparatively 
unoccupee-d,  he  bethocht  him  of  the  glories  of  the  Scot- 
tish capital  and  its  medical  univa-arseety,  where  he  had 
possibly  once  held  a  horse  for  Dr.  Munro,  and  concluded 
to  try  his  hand  at  phee-seek  ;  it  answered  vara  weel,  and 
in  a  few  years  he  found  himself  in  full  practeece.  He 
throve  apace,  and  became  a  landlord  of  sundry  small 
tenements,  which  he  let  at  50  cents  to  $1  per  week. 
What  with  house-renting  and  medicine-mongering,  he 
has  become  rich  and  an  academician  ;  we  have  seen  him 
in  the  highest  place  amongst  the  IUustrissimi,  at  their 
annual  oration !  Some  of  the  more  domestic  articles  of 
his  favorite  therapeia  are  of  a  very  extraordinary  charac- 
ter— articles  that  would  have  blenched  even  the  cheek  of 
poor  Tony  far  sooner  than  his  crow,  had  they  been 
thoughtlessly  communicated  to  his  understanding  after 
being  received  into  his  stomach. 

To  resume  :  Our  pseudo  Esculapian  stood  by  the  side 
of  his  prostrate  quadruped,  wrapped  in  an  antiquated 
cloak  of  faded  tartan,  now  tugging  at  the  thills,  and  anon 
encouraging  the  quadruped  to  exert  his  powers  and  as- 
sume the  vertical  posture.  "  Gee-up — up  wi  ye — ye  will 
na  ;  will  ye  na  ?  Bide  a  wee,  ye  auld  deevil,  and  a-1  see  til 
ye."  Then  taking  out  an  old  jack-knife,  he  applied  its 
point  by  way  of  a  quickener  to  the  intercostals  of  the 


256  BEAR-BAITING   IN  THE  STAB-CHAMBER. 

hapless  steed.  Alas !  'twas  no  go  ;  twice  he  fell  prostrate 
over  the  fallen  animal,  and  would  have  utterly  failed  in 
the  resurrection,  had  it  not  been  for  the  aid  of  a  friendly 
chimney-sweep,  who  offered  his  services  ;  they  were 
effective,  and  after  the  rope-gearing  was  re-adjusted,  he 
was  rewarded  with  a  "  Thank  ye,  my  gude  lad.  Gin  ye 
e'er  get  seek,  ye  hae  only  to  ask  for  the  auld  docther,  and 
a-1  come  till  ye  directly  ;  or  an  ye  want  a  tooth  pulhd  a-1 
do  it  for  naething  ;  yer  a  gude  lad  and  a  kind." 

The  indescribable-looking  Esculapian  now  climbed  into 
his  old  vehicle,  inflicted  a  few  blows  upon  the  sides  of 
the  miserable  animal  with  a  domestic  gad,  and  the 
wretched  quadruped,  by  a  sad  effort,  called  up  his 
remaining  powers  of  vitality,  and  the  entire  concern 
jogged,  creaking  and  rattling  over  the  frozen  pavement, 
up  the  street.  If  we  dared  to  communicate  the  nature  of 
his  domestic  materia  medica,  as  told  in  a  moment  of  con- 
fidence to  a  gentleman  of  our  acquaintance,  we  would 
show  that,  by  comparison,  the  Hydrophobin  of  our  ho- 
moeopathic brethren,  and  their  tincture  of  Pediculi  and 
Millipedes,  are  delicious  morsels.  In  truth  he  carries 
out  the  idea  to  its  completest  extent,  of  the  circular 
operations  of  nature  ;  the  e-gesta  and  the  t'n-gesta,  occu- 
pying the  reciprocal  position  of  the  regulator  and  the 
regulated.  This  is  bad  for  the  druggists  to  be  sure,  but 
a-la-Liebig,  and  decidedly  economical.  So  far  as  we  can 
learn  by  occasional  assurances  of  the  vulgar,  such  pre- 
scriptions are  by  no  means  unacceptable  or  unreliable  to 
their  understandings  or  their  palates. 

Like  a  picture  whose  lights  and  shades  are  so  harmo- 
niously combined  as  to  produce  a  full  appreciation  of  its 
excellence,  we  sometimes  meet,  even  in  the  ranks  of  our 
heterogeneous  profession,  an  individual  whose  tout  en- 
semble inspires  us  with  instant  confidence  and  esteem. 


BEAR-BAITING   IN  THE  STAR-CHAMBER.  257 

Such  persona  are  broadly  contrasted  with  the  mass  of 
their  brethren,  who  often  look  as  though  "  they  bought 
their  coats  in  Italy,  their  hose  in  France,  their  hats  in 
Germany,"  and  their  behavior  in  Communipaw. 

Dr.  V e  is  a  descendant  of  a  French  family  of  great 

excellence,  who  sought  this  country  from  democratic 
political  predilections,  which  were  largely  shared  by  the 
subject  of  this  sketch.  He  was  for  many  years  the  inti- 
mate friend  and  assistant  of  Dr.  Mott,  in  all  those  great 
operations  which  lent  such  lustre  to  his  name.  Although 
his  professional  life  commenced  long  anterior  to  our  own, 
his  appearance  is  so  youthful,  and  his  toilet  so  unexcep- 
tionably  elegant,  that  no  one  not  acquainted  with  his 
history  could  ever  dream  of  his  age  and  experience. 

Such  is  his  extraordinary  modesty  and  good  breeding, 
that  we  have  heard  the  most  dictatorial  opinions  ad- 
vanced in  his  presence  by  persons  totally  unacquainted 
with  the  merits  of  the  question,  elicit  not  even  a  reply 
from  him,  when  we  knew  that  he  himself  could  have  con- 
tradicted the  assertion  from  personal  knowledge  of  the 
matter. 

Indeed  this  trait  of  character  has  been  a  great  hin- 
drance to  that  popularity  to  which,  if  real  knowledge  and 
worth  were  appreciated,  he  would  have  presented  claims 
in  advance  of  a  large  majority  of  his  brethren.  We  are 
delighted  to  perceive  the  doctor  at  a  mature  age,  giving 
the  benefit  of  his  large  experience  to  a  select  circle  of 
intellectual  friends  who  know  how  to  appreciate  learning 
and  modesty.  We  rely  upon  his  amiability  to  show  a 
little  of  the  other  side  of  the  moral  picture.  The  Doctor 
is  very  lazy.  Well  do  we  remember  his  elegant  figure, 
encased  in  a  suit  of  black,  buttoned  up  to  the  throat,  the 
handkerchief  thrust  into  the  breast,  (and  if  peculiarly 
recherche,  probably  the  gift  of  some  attached  patient,) 


258  BEAR-BAITING  IN   THE  STAR-CHAMBER. 

one  end  slightly  visible,  his  brilliant  eye  and  curling  locks 
like  so  many  living  and  jetty  snakes,  sauntering  lazily 
into  the  operating  chamber,  ten  or  fifteen  minutes  after 
the  appointed  hour  ;  and  then  the  peculiarly  calm  and 
expressively  Quakerish  stereotyped  remark  of  his  friend, 
"  We  must  give  the  Doctor  a  little  time,  he  needs  it,"  all 
the  while  anxious  to  let  him,  as  well  as  the  patient,  feel 
the  point  of  the  Scalpel,  for  the  annoyance.  With  this 
drawback,  there  is  not  a  more  profoundly  educated  sur- 
geon and  physician,  or  a  more  honorable  man,  in  the 
entire  corps. 

Spirit  of  beauty,  who  dost  sit  at  eve 
With  the  lone  watcher  on  the  silent  hill, 
And  weavest  from  the  valleys  of  the  stars 
Wild  stories  like  the  sighing  of  the  rill ; 
Who  bringest  visions  to  the  dreamer's  heart- 
Shapes  of  the  vanished— low  sweet  murmurings 
Of  long  hushed  voices— Prophetess  of  art, 
Beneath  whose  wing  thy  favored  votary  sees 
Glimpses  of  fairy  forms  and  spirit  eyes  " — 

why  wakest  thou  the  memory  of  former  years?  Why 
openest  thou  the  cells  whose  crystal  drops  no  sterner 
passion  can  unlock  ?  What  whispers  to  my  soul  the  un- 
seen presence  of  him  on  whom  "  fond  memory  loves  to 
dwell?"  Yes,  dear  Godman,*  thou  indeed  canst  bring 
the  "  light  of  other  days  "  around  me.  No  circumscribed 
views  of  thy  glorious  calling  bound  thy  soul  to  earth, 
even  when  that  frail  body  yet  lingered  amongst  us. 
Those  eloquent  lips,  on  whose  trembling  notes  I  have  so 
often  hung  with  the  sad  thought  they  were  so  soon  to 
close  forever  ;  those  glorious  and  soulful  eyes,  whose 
boundless  view  was  cast  o'er  all  surrounding  heaven ; 
those  delicate  hands  that  interrogated  the  structure,  now 

*  Professor  of  Anatomy  and  Natural  History  in  Rutgers  Medical  College,  and 
author  of  several  volumes  on  Natural  History. 


BEAR-BAITING   IN  THE  STAR-CHAMBER.  259 

of  the  little  shrew  mouse,  and  now  of  the  fierce  and 
lordly  eagle,  and  drew  from  them  lessons  of  love  and  vir- 
tue ;  where  art  thou?  And  she,  the  partner  of  thy 
young  love,  and  thy  touching  struggles  with  poverty  and 
life,  whilst  building  a  monument  that  will  last  as  long  as 
science  and  virtue  shall  be  revered  ;  hast  thou  whispered 
to  her  that  thy  spirit  is  near  ?  She  closed  those  glorious 
windows  of  the  soul  with  her  own  fond  lips,  as  the  light 
of  earth  passed  from  thee  ;  the  last  throb  of  that  noble 
heart  faded  under  her  hand,  and  she  best  knew  thy  fit- 
ness for  a  higher  sphere.  I  believe  that  thou,  who  so 
eloquently  explained  in  the  vestibule  the  works  of  thy 
great  Teacher  here,  hast  been  found  worthy  to  enjoy  the 
glory  of  the  inner  temple. 


SCENES  IN   CITY  PRACTICE. 


DIFFERENT  "WAYS  OF  PREPARATION   FOR  DEATH— THE  MISER'S— THE  OLD  MUSIC 
TEACHER'S— CHEATING  THE  UNDERTAKER— THE  PHILOSOPHICAL  GAMBLER. 

"  There  is  an  art  to  find  the  mind's  construction  in  the  face." 

A  curious,  a  wonderful  thing  is  the  human  face,  with 
its  ever-varied  construction,  its  constant  play  of  muscles, 
and  its  infinite  variety  of  expression.  Few  people  ever 
think  of  it  as  we  do  :  the  criminal  advocate  becomes  in  a 
measure  skilled  in  looking  through  it  into  the  heart,  but 
he  usually  meets  with  those  who  have  long  been  trained 
in  vice,  and  has  comparative  facilities  in  reading  its  worst 
language  :  he  does  not  acquire  the  nice  perception  of 
character  often  attained  by  the  physician,  who  is  perpet- 
ually obliged  to  look  upon  it  when  agitated  by  emotions 
not  likely  to  be  influenced  in  their  action  by  considera- 
tions of  caution.  If  he  succeed  in  winning  his  patient's 
confidence,  there  are  few  things  he  will  not  hear  during 
some  moment  of  agpny  or  confidence  ;  hence  his  inter- 
course is  of  so  sacred  a  character,  that  even  the  law 
acknowledges  his  right  to  conceal  communications  it  may 
demand  from  others  under  grievous  penalties.  Many  a 
family  would  be  broken  up,  if  the  physician  did  not 
respect  the  sacredness  of  his  trust.  Nor  would  I  enter 
ruthlessly  the  sanctuary  where  private  griefs  repose. 
Had  I  ever,  even  in  a  moment  of  thoughtlessness,  betrayed 
a  professional  secret,  I  should  never  dare  to  put  my  pen 
to  these  sketches.    Yet  I  do  not  conceive  it  incumbent 


PROFESSIONAL  HUMAN  EIGHTS.  261 

upon  me  to  conceal  the  vices  of  humanity,  when  they 
illustrate  some  extraordinary  phase  of  character.  It  is 
the  purpose  of  these  sketches  to  give  the  world  some  idea 
of  the  human  rights  of  our  profession.  It  has  been  too 
long  conceded  by  them,  that  we  are  in  duty  bound  to  sub- 
mit to  their  caprices  and  insults,  and  to  hold  our  peace 
whenever  we  feel  called  on  to  speak  of  their  ingratitude. 
I  never  yet  heard  the  praises  of  a  medical  man,  who  was 
characterized  by  a  manly  firmness  and  self-respect  in  his 
intercourse  with  his  patients.  No  matter  what  sacrifices 
of  time  or  money,  or  what  disgusting  duties  we  may  be 
called  on  to  perform,  we  have  only  to  refuse  acceding  to 
some  unreasonable  demand  of  a  querulous  invalid,  or  to 
submit  to  some  impertinence  of  a  meddlesome  visitor 
who  wishes  to  gain  the  good-will  of  our  patient,  and  we 
are  at  once  denounced  as  a  hard-hearted  demon  ;  but 
when  we  are  obliged  to  urge  the  payment  of  a  bill,  (be  it 
remembered  a  thing  we  should  never  be  expected  to  do 
by  a  gentleman — I  mean  if  our  attentions  have  been  re- 
ceived in  friendship  and  confidence,)  we  straightway 
become  the  subject  of  the  meanest  kind  of  slander 
and  abuse,  more  especially  if  the  services  have  been 
required  by  the  vices  of  the  patient.  This  is  so  universal 
as  to  be  acknowledged  the  most  sickening  draught  the 
general  practitioner  is  called  on  to  swallow ;  and  he  is 
obliged  often  to  drain  the  nauseous  cup  to  its  very  dregs, 
when  he  has  waited  upon  his  thankless  patient  with  his 
very  heart  in  his  hand. 

We  give  the  following  sketch  with  no  pleasure,  but 
simply  because  we  think  it  belongs  to  a  complete  picture 
of  human  nature  in  one  of  its  phases.  It  is  certainly  a 
marked  example  of  its  kind,  but  it  serves  to  show  the 
degradation  to  which  the  man  descends  whose  soul  is 
devoted  to  money.     I  have  observed  devotion  to  that  god, 


262  A  MISERS  PHYSIOGNOMY. 

often  combined  with  just  such  piety  and  assurance  of 
eternal  happiness. 

I  was  requested  some  years  since  to  visit  an  aged  man 
at  one  of  our  most  fashionable  hotels.  He  had  been  for 
some  weeks  under  the  care  of  a  medical  man,  whose  ex- 
treme amiability  and  devotion  to  his  patient  (a  very 
nervous  man)  had  induced  its  usual  consequence  with 
such  people,  viz.,  a  contempt  and  distrust  of  his  opinion. 
In  this  however  he  was  entirely  unjust,  for  a  more  ami- 
able man  than  his  physician  I  never  knew,  and  his  opin- 
ion was  quite  correct ;  he  had  pronounced  the  disease  a 
cancer  of  the  lower  bowel,  and  of  course  incurable.  I 
approached  the  patient  with  that  amenity  I  have  always 
felt  that  my  personal  appearance  requires  me  to  exercise 
with  peculiar  care,  on  my  first  approach  to  a  patient — 
for  candid  friends  have  assured  me  I  resemble  more  a 
pirate  or  executioner  than  a  surgeon ;  my  manner  evi- 
dently pleased  him,  and  left  me  at  liberty  closely  to  scan 
a  set  of  features  such  as  I  had  never  before  seen.  He 
was  about  sixty  years  of  age,  with  a  head  of  a  wretchedly 
unintellectual  cast,  nearly  covered  with  sparsely  distrib- 
uted hair  of  snowy  whiteness  ;  enormous  bushy  eyebrows 
overhanging  cavernous  eyes  of  gray,  and  throwing  out  as 
it  seemed  a  single  ray  of  light,  as  from  a  diamond  point ; 
a  nose  compressed  to  flatness,  and  acuminated  almost  to 
a  level  with  the  thin  and  bloodless  lips,  and  chin  to  match 
it,  if  reversed ;  the  whole  face  denoting  a  lifetime  of  de- 
votion to  care  and  money,  and  overspread  with  the  corpse- 
like hue  of  cancer.  I  sat  down  by  his  bedside,  and  soon 
satisfied  myself  that  a  few  weeks  would  give  him  an 
opportunity  to  test  the  value  of  his  course  of  life  as  a 
preparation  for  a  future  state  of  existence.  The  reader 
will  observe,  I  neither  knew  nor  had  ever  heard  of  him  ; 
but  such  faces  never  he,  and  I  was  at  once  satisfied  I 


a  miser's  preparation  for  death.  263 

knew  the  measure  of  his  soul  as  well  as  his  body.  I  told 
him  frankly  that  he  must  not  expect  a  cure,  and  that  he 
would  in  a  very  short  time  be  unable  to  reach  his  home 
in  the  interior  of  the  State,  where  he  told  me  he  wished 
to  draw  his  last  breath.  He  named  a  fortnight  as  the 
earliest  period  at  which  he  could  conveniently  depart, 
and  requested  me  to  cause  a  covered  couch  to  be  con- 
structed, on  which  he  might  be  conveyed  to  the  steam- 
boat; a  canal  going  from  the  city  of  ....  to  his  princely 
residence. 

During  a  subsequent  visit,  I  chanced  to  make  a  quota- 
tion from  one  of  Lamartine's  beautiful  hymns ;  he  clasped 
his  hands,  and  raising  his  eyes  heavenward,  desired  me 
to  continue  it.  I  did  so,  and  he  would  never  allow  me 
to  leave  him  without  repeating  some  poetry  of  a  religious* 
character,  which  fortunately  my  youthful  stores  enabled 
me  to  do.  I  soon  found  that  my  patient  was  a  most  de- 
voted routine,  or  rhythmical  Christian  ;  he  took  religious 
poetry  by  way  of  an  anodyne,  to  efface  memories  of 
former  misspent  time.  On  one  occasion  he  congratu- 
lated himself  very  warmly,  with  clasped  hands  and 
upraised  eyes,  upon  the  attention  God  had  granted  to  his 
prayers.  He  had  prayed  for  wealth,  and  it  was  given 
him  to  overflowing  abundance  ;  he  had  built  a  palace 
superior  to  any  in  the  State  ;  a  son  and  daughter  had 
been  granted  to  his  supplications  ;  he  was  satisfied  ;  he 
asked  no  more  of  Heaven,  and  was  ready  to  die.  His 
dignified  and  patient  wife,  who  was  nearly  worn  out  in 
attendance  on  him,  was  never  spoken  of  to  me  as  the 
object  of  his  solicitude  ;  he  had  no  nurse,  and  her  duties 
were  arduous  and  most  repulsive.  This  had  arrested  my 
attention,  and  I  received  a  short  reply  to  my  suggestion 
of  a  male  nurse  as  a  relief  for  her.  Oh,  how  the  old 
man  shows  himself  in  sickness !  If  he  love  a  wife,  how 
12 


264  a  miser's  preparation  for  death. 

gentle  and  thoughtful  he  becomes  ;  how  solicitous  for 
her  health  ;  and  how  he  will  conceal  the  severest  suffer- 
ing, for  that  dear  object  on  whose  fond  breast  he  has  so 
often  pillowed  an  aching  head.  There  is  no  trial  like 
sickness,  of  love  or  Christianity. 

I  soon  found  my  patient  a  very  exacting  one.  He 
demanded  of  me  two  daily  visits,  and  the  most  repulsive 
duties  from  his  wife.  I  begged  her  often  to  induce  him 
to  get  a  nurse,  for  her  own  sake  as  well  as  his  ;  but  she 
assured  me  he  would  permit  no  person  to  come  near  him 
but  her  ;  he  had  repeatedly  spoken  of  his  great  expenses 
at  the  hotel ;  but  as  he  had  assured  me  of  his  great 
wealth,  I  saw  clearly  his  miserly  habits  were  at  the  bot- 
tom of  his  repugnance.  At  the  end  of  three  weeks' 
attendance  he  became  very  much  prostrated  ;  and  feeling, 
as  I  supposed,  his  condition,  he  begged  me  to  order  his 
couch  to  be  prepared,  as  he  designed  to  go  in  a  few  days, 
having  sent  for  his  son  for  the  purpose  of  escorting 
him. 

It  was  accordingly  finished,  and  I  directed  the  me- 
chanic to  leave  it  at  the  hotel  and  present  the  bill  to  me, 
as  I  did  not  wish  him  annoyed  with  it  until  his  depart- 
ure, when  he  would  probably  ask  me  for  it.  He  had  it 
brought  to  his  bedside  and  inspected  it  narrowly ;  it  gave 
great  satisfaction,  and  was  removed  to  an  adjoining  room- 
Home  few  days  after  the  son  arrived.  I  continued  my 
visits,  and  as  nothing  was  said  of  his  departure,  and  he 
was  growing  alarmingly  weak,  and  his  wife  was  almost 
exhausted  with  constant  watching,  I  ventured  to  suggest 
his  removal.  He  had  never  used  a  sharp  word  to  me 
before,  but  on  this  occasion  replied,  with  some  petulance, 
he  would  not  be  ready  to  go  in  some  days  ;  and  desired 
me  not  to  recur  to  the  subject  again.  I  apologized,  and 
assured  him  I  had  only  done  it  because  he  had  desired 


THE  MISEB'S  LAST  BILL.  265 

me  to  do  so,  and  I  thought  he  was  awaiting  my  advice 
of  the  proper  moment. 

That  night  the  son  (a  clergyman)  waited  on  me  and 
requested  the  bill  for  the  couch.  I  handed  it  to  him  as 
it  was  made  out  by  the  mechanic  in  his  own  hand ;  he 
looked  at  it  and  remarked,  convulsively  drawing  in  his 
breath,  that  it  was  very  costly  (I  think  it  was  some  thirty 
dollars,  including  a  very  well  made  mattress  and  pillow, 
as  he  was  to  occupy  it  for  two  days,  and  also  be  carried 
on  it  a  few  miles.)  I  declined  accepting  the  money,  and 
sent  him  to  the  mechanic  to  make  his  own  terms.  In 
the  morning  I  called  as  usual,  and  spent  an  hour  with 
him,  and  alluded  to  my  afternoon  visit,  as  the  son  had 
told  me  he  would  not  go  till  next  week.  I  found  the 
patient  in  his  usual  religious  frame  of  mind,  thanking 
God  for  all  his  mercies  ;  he  requested  me  to  read  a  psalm 
for  him  ;  I  did  so,  and  took  my  leave.  In  the  evening  I 
called  at  the  usual  hour  ;  the  old  man  had  departed !  I 
learned  that  he  died  two  weeks  after  his  arrival.  Kelat- 
ing  the  circumstance  to  a  distinguished  lawyer  some 
months  afterward,  he  smiled,  and  assured  me  my  pa- 
tient's peculiarities  were  well  known  to  him  and  every 
one  who  ever  had  business  relations  with  him  ;  that  his 
whole  life  had  been  devoted  to  money,  and  that  my  idea 
of  abandoning  my  bill  would  probably  give  great  satisfac- 
tion to  his  heir,  who  was  a  chip  of  the  same  block.  On 
reflection  I  was  quite  ashamed  of  my  foolish  pride  and 
weakness.  Human  nature  is  a  varied  page,  and  we  can- 
not shame  a  rogue  into  honesty  and  manhood.  I  in- 
closed the  bill  to  the  heir,  and  no  notice  was  taken  of  it ; 
three  or  four  letters  followed  with  like  results ;  finally 
a  lawyer's  letter  brought  me  a  check  for  the  amount. 

One  day,  some  few  years  since,  I  was  summoned  by 
my  friend,  Dr.  C ,  to  visit  an  old  man  of  some  seventy 


266  THE  OLD  MUSIC  TEACHER. 

years,  who  was  afflicted  with  a  carbuncle.     That  disease, 
when  of  any  magnitude  at  so  late  a  period  of  life,  is  fre- 
quently fatal,  and  I  supposed  my  friend,  with  his  usual 
care  for  the  feelings  of  the  poor,  would  introduce  me  into 
some  wretched  garret  or  damp  cellar  kitchen,  merely  for 
charity's  sweet  sake,  to  give  my  learned  imprimatur  to 
the  dismissal  of  some  wretched  being  from  a  condition  of 
squalid  misery.     I  was  singularly  and  agreeably  disap- 
pointed.    It  is  true,  we  ascended  three  pair  of  stairs  in 
a  house  occupied  by  several  families,  and  we  were  re- 
ceived at  the  door  of  his  apartment  by  the  patient  him- 
self.    He  apologized  for  being  alone,  as  he  was  usually 
attended  by  a  niece,  and  begged  us  to  enter  with  such 
dignity   and    simplicity   of    manner,   that  I  was   quite 
charmed  with  the  old  gentleman.     On   expressing  the 
hope  that  he  was  not  seriously  afflicted  and  would  soon 
recover,  he  replied,  as  pleasantly  as  though  contemplat- 
ing a  journey,  that  he  could  not  anticipate  a  much  longer 
delay  of  the  final  summons,  and  was  quite  prepared  to 
meet  it ;  he  had  lived  a  long  time  and  was  of  little  use, 
as  his  faculties  were  becoming  obtuse  ;  he  was  a  music 
teacher,  and  had  taught  the  piano  up  to  the  period  of  his 
attack  ;  an  old  but  well  saved  piano  stood  in  one  corner, 
and  some  other  musical  instruments  in  the  other  ;  a  lit- 
tle sheet-iron  stove,  a  few  chairs,  and  an  old  bedstead, 
spread    with    snowy   sheets,   completed  the  furniture ; 
several  water-color  pictures  hung  from  the  walls  ;  and 
the  question  arose  in  my  mind,  of  what  little  domestic 
heaven,  broken  up  by  death,  are  these  the  sad  remains  ? 
for  I  saw  that  this  room  comprised  his  entire   menage. 
Surely  woman  has  taught  you  how  to  love  with  that  bland 
voice,  thought  I,  as  the  poor  old  man,  with  evident  re- 
luctance at  its  repulsiveness,  allowed  us  to  examine  his 
grievous  affection  ;  it  was  awful  in  extent,  and  on  learn- 


POVERTY    AND    REFINEMENT.  267 

ing  that  lie  strictly  declined  all  stimuli,  I  mentally  gave 
him  up  to  die,  and  declined  the  usual  resort  to  incisions 
for  the  liberation  of  the  mortified  tissues.     I  thought  it 
was  of  no  use  to  give  him  pain,  as  death  was  sure.     On 
leaving   him   with   no   addition   to  the  local  treatment, 
which  was   all   conducted  personally  by  my  excellent 
friend,  I  was  obliged  to  escape  from  the  expression  of  his 
painful  solicitude  for  his  repulsiveness,  as  he  expressed 
it,  and  his  acknowledgment  of  my  kindness.     I  inquired 
of  my  friend  his  history  ;  it  was  a  very  short  one.     He 
had  taught  for  forty  years,  honored  and  beloved  by  all, 
always  poor,  and  respected  for  his  amiable  and  simple 
character,  with  a  wife  as  excellent  as  himself ;  she  was  a 
delicate  creature,  and  faded  away  from  earth,  leaving  him 
childless.     The  piano  and  the  pictures  were  hers,  and 
were  treasured  in  the  little  hired  room  where  we  found 
him  ;  his  niece  and  he  lived  there,  with  the  aid  of  their 
poor  neighbors  in  preparing  their   simple  meals ;   he 
longed  to  die  and  join  his  dear  wife,  as  his  niece  was  well 
provided  for  by  her  relatives.     I  paid  him  several  visits, 
and  was  surprised  to  see  the  tenacity  of  life.     His  dis- 
ease became  so  extensive  that  neither  of  us  anticipated 
his  recovery  ;  but  he  finally  disappointed  us  completely, 
for  my  friend  informed  me,  some  weeks  after  my  last 
visit,  that  he  had  ordered  the  old  gentleman  to  breathe 
the  country  air  for  a  few  weeks,  as  he  needed  no  atten- 
tion which  his   niece   could  not  render  him.     On  the 
occasion  of  his  last  visit,  the  old  gentleman,  with  a  smile, 
compelled  his  acceptance  of  thirty  dollars  in  gold,  assur- 
ing him  that  he  did  not  require  it  now,  as  he  had  laid  it 
aside  for  the  undertaker!     Surely  the  quality  of  men's 
souls  differ  as  well  as  their  bodies.     The  rich  are  often 
poorer  with  their  millions  than  the  righteous  poor  with 
their  pence  and  misery. 


268  A  PHILOSOPHICAL    GAMBLER. 

Thus  easily  can  men  prepare  themselves  for  the  great 
passage.  Some  require  prayer  ;  some  the  thoughts  of 
their  wealth  evidently  soothe  ;  some  are  beckoned  away 
by  the  loved  and  lost,  and  some  step  out  by  the  aid  of 
poison  and  philosophy.  Listen  to  a  cool  example  of  the 
latter.  I  was  summoned  by  an  ex-alderman  to  see  Mon- 
sieur R at  his  bachelor's  rooms  in  Broadway.     He 

had  been  found  in  a  state  of  stupor,  lying  on  the  floor, 
and  it  was  supposed,  from  an  open  pill-box  lying  near 
him,  that  he  had  taken  some  narcotic  poison.  He  was  a 
very  elegant  and  accomplished  man,  of  some  thirty  years 
of  age,  who  had  fled  from  France  for  some  political  or 
other  offence,  and  had  been  ranging  among  the  saloons 
of  the  Potiphars,  worshipped  by  the  mothers  and  courted 
by  the  daughters,  as  though  he  had  been  a  scion  of  nobi- 
lity or  a  royal  boot-black.     I  had   seen  him   in   high 

feather  in  the  parlors  at  the  receptions  of  Madame , 

and  recognized  the  man  of  fashion  without  a  ray  of  prin- 
ciple ;  he  would  have  passed  for  a  debauchee,  were  it  not 
for  his  quiet  elegance  and  his  superb  figure.  I  found 
him  lying  on  a  couch,  wrapped  in  an  elegant  robe  de 
chambre,  and  breathing  heavily.  On  raising  the  eyelids, 
the  pupils  were  found  dilated  till  the  iris  was  a  mere 
thread.  I  sent  home  for  a  strong  galvanic  battery,  and 
applied  powerful  shocks  between  the  nape  of  the  neck 
and  the  heels  alternately,  while  he  was  held  up  by  two 
men  ;  before  long  I  aroused  him  enough  to  compel  him 
to  move  his  limbs — one  man  carrying  the  battery  on  a 
tray,  two  holding  him  up,  and  I  applying  the  conductors 
alternately  to  either  limb  and  the  upper  part  of  the  spine. 
Before  long  I  got  him  to  swallow  a  small  cup  of  strong 
coffee  ;  this  was  continued  every  few  minutes  till  he  had 
drank  several  cups  ;  it  is  one  of  the  best  stimuli,  and  sup- 
posed to  be  specifically  counteracting  to  many  of  the 


HE  TRIES  TO   "STEP  OUT."  269 

vegetable  narcotics.*  After  a  few  hours,  during  all  of 
which  time  we  kept  him  walking  up  and  down  the  room, 
he  seemed  to  recognize  his  position,  and  made  several  at- 
tempts to  converse  in  English  and  French.  I  left  him  in 
charge  of  a  student,  and  went  to  get  some  rest,  as  it  was 
near  morning.  On  my  return  to  his  room,  I  found  him 
very  much  prostrated  but  quite  sensible.  On  asking  him 
what  he  had  taken,  I  found  he  had  been  a  graduate  of 
medicine  in  Paris,  and  had  written  a  recipe  for  thirty 
grains  of  belladonna  in  pills,  and  he  assured  me  he  had 
swallowed  the  whole  !  "  Why  did  you  do  it  ?"  said  I. 
"  Why,  my  dear  Doctare,"  replied  he,  "  I  had  lost  all  my 
money  at  play,  and  the  necessity  for  living  had  ceased  I" 

*  Caffeln  is  now  known  to  be  the  remedy.  It  has  since  saved  a  patient  in  the 
same  hotel  from  death  by  opinm:  a  scruple  of  caffein  thrown  up  the  bowel 
aroused  him,  and  he  recovered,  after  the  seeming  of  death. 


A  DISCOURSE  TO  THE  BRETHREN  ON  MORALS. 

BY   AN    OLD    SURGICAL    FOX. 


Dearly  Beloved  Brethten  : — In  addressing  you  on 
this  occasion,  although  I  use  the  ordinary  endearing  ap- 
pellation of  the  clergy,  I  by  no  means  do  it  in  a  sarcastic 
manner  ;  although  I  have  been  accustomed  to  use  a 
rather  different  formula  in  my  discourses  to  you,  I  sin- 
cerely trust  you  will  endeavor  to  rid  yourself  of  all 
unkind  feelings  toward  me.  In  my  ordinary  hortatory 
efforts,  it  is  true  I  have  often  been  obliged  to  speak  of 
your  vices,  and  occasionally  to  administer  the  rod,  in 
order  to  impress  my  admonitions  upon  your  memories  ; 
yet  at  present  I  speak  with  hearty  sympathy,  for  I  ob- 
serve many  of  ye  are  very  lean,  and  look  distressingly 
hungry. 

There  was  once  a  very  wise  man  who  used  to  say, 
"  Spare  the  rod  and  you'll  spoil  the  child."  I  don't  like 
to  quote  him  professionally,  because  there  is,  I  believe,  a 
little  doubt  on  the  subject  of  his  matrimonial  morals  ;  he 
was  supposed  to  be  slightly  tinctured  with  Mormonism, 
and,  as  a  body,  the  faculty,  I  am  sure,  have  no  such  pre- 
dilection ;  besides,  he  must  have  been  exceedingly 
wealthy,  or  he  would  never  have  been  able  to  build  so 
fine  a  house,  or  to  have  amassed  so  many  shekels  of  gold 
and  silver  ;  of  these  habits,  with  few  exceptions,  I  think 
it  will  be  conceded,  we  are  also  free.  Whether  the  latter 
part  of  his  apothegm  would  apply  to  you  collectively  is 


THE  GREAT  SURGICAL  GOOSE  PEN.  271 

also  rather  doubtful,  as  most  of  you,  I  take  it,  however 
you  may  require  correction,  have  advanced  beyond  the 
years  of  childhood.  It  is  true  some  of  you,  who  have 
had  the  good  fortune  to  get  into  the  hospital  crib,  are 
still  of  rather  small  dimensions  at  both  extremities,  and 
will  be  obliged  by  your  venerable  associates  to  wear  the 
habiliments  of  the  nursery  for  some  years  ;  yet  I  think  I 
may  with  propriety  consider  you  a  promising  body  of 
youthful  ganders,  and  fairly  entitled  to  a  warning  from 
the  old  fox  who  is  perfectly  content  to  remain  outside 
the  goose-pen,  and  pick  up  his  living  from  such  rats  and 
mice,  and  other  small  game,  as  have  escaped  the  machin- 
ations of  the  faculty  in  other  parts  of  the  "Union,  and 
now  and  then  a  gosling  or  a  turkey  from  among  the 
innocent  denizens  of  the  great  civic  forest,  where  you  all 
go  nosing  along  for  your  fodder. 

Some  of  my  readers  may  remember  my  pathetic  narra- 
tive of  their  successful  experiment  in  getting  me  inside  of 
the  hospital  trap,  and  they  will  probably  be  surprised 
to  find  how  I  escaped  their  clutches.  They  will  remem- 
ber the  morning  was  rapidly  approaching  when  I  had 
closed  my  last  words  (as  I  supposed)  of  counsel  to  the 
faithful  cubs  who  were  bewailing  my  fate  outside.  It 
was  nearly  an  hour  after  I  had  refreshed  my  fainting 
stomach  with  the  young  gosling  they  so  affectionately 
brought  me  from  one  of  the  poultry-yards  in  Union 
Square,  and  I  sat  stolidly  awaiting  my  medical  captors, 
when  I  began  to  feel  a  strange  sensation  of  returning 
vitality  tingling  through  my  poor  old  bones  and  muscles. 
It  was  so  infernal  cold  in  the  trap,  and  I  had  been  kept 
so  distressingly  hungry  for  some  years,  as  I  was  obliged 
to  live  on  such  small  and  contemptible  game  as  I  could 
catch  in  the  outskirts  of  the  city,  in  the  shape  of  Irish 
laborers,  etc.  etc.,  that  my  courage  began  to  fail.  The 
12* 


272  THE  OLD  FOX  IN  THE  TEAP. 

trap  was  called  "  The  Medical  and  Surgical  Association  " 
of  that  venerable  institution,  the  New  York  Hospital.  It 
had  been  set  up  by  a  few  of  the  goslings  who  had  been 
hatched  in  that  old  coop,  doubtless  with  the  intention  of 
using  the  stupid  medical  cubs  they  might  catch,  as  decoys 
for  civic  game  in  the  way  of  surgical  consultations,  when 
they  should  become  regular  ganders  in  the  great  surgical 
goose-pen.  I  was  excessively  amused  to  study  their  pe- 
culiar natures,  and  to  see  how  they  were  pecked  and 
thumped  by  the  reigning  gander  of  the  month.  This 
they  bore  with  exemplary  patience  for  fear  of  being 
kicked  out  of  the  coop.  One  of  them  (the  Irish  Ho- 
munculus)  had  a  passion  for  mimicking  his  gander  that 
was  truly  diverting.  He  used  to  affect  great  feebleness 
in  his  pins,  and  pretended  that  he  could  hardly  hiss 
audibly,  because  his  gander  was  perfectly  indifferent  to 
all  emotions,  and  always  looked  as  though  he  was  about 
to  be  blown  away.  He  could  not  hiss  you  loud  enough 
to  be  heard  across  the  ward ;  the  Homunculus  was 
hatched  from  an  Irish  egg,  and  was  sturdy  enough  in 
his  juvenility,  though  the  absence  of  blood  was  plainly 
visible  in  his  communications  with  his  brethren  ;  but 
of  them  more  anon. 

When  my  captors  came  into  the  hospital  and  found  me 
in  the  trap,  one  of  them  proposed  my  immediate  exe- 
cution without  benefit  of  a  hearing.  This  was  to  be 
effected   by   passing   the    manly   resolution   offered  by 

Gander  P 1,  of  allowing  a  majority  of  one  to  expel  a 

member  "without  informing  him  of  the  reason  for  his 
expulsion."  After  this  resolution  had  been  for  some  time 
debated,  and  was  about  to  pass  in  full  conclave,  I  got  a 
little  sick  at  my  stomach  when  contemplating  my  digni- 
fied captors,  and  it  occurred  to  me  that  as  I  had  now  got 
my  nose  pretty  well  under  the  door,  I  could  with  a  little 


HE  ESCAPES  HIS   CAPTOBS.  273 

effort  throw  it  up  and  be  off.  With  a  slight  push  I 
cleared  the  trap,  and  told  my  honorable  brethren  to  go 
to  the  devil ;  giving  them  a  wholesome  view  of  my  claws, 
I  turned  tail  and  made  my  tracks  for  home.  Whether 
they  entered  the  manly  resolution  on  the  minutes  I  never 
troubled  myself  to  inquire  ;  probably  they  did,  as  it 
seemed  to  meet  with  great  favor,  and  their  plans  being 
now  discovered,  they  might  possibly  require  it  for  future  ■ 
use  in  expelling  a  stray  wolf  or  fox  who  might  get  into 
their  trap. 

I  went  to  my  old  lair,  feeling  rather  cheap  at  the  char- 
acter of  my  company,  and  for  a  long  while  imagining  I 
smelled  of  their  propinquity  ;  but  this  was  probably  only 
a  morbid  fancy,  and  in  a  few  years  I  got  quite  clear  of 
the  notion. 

I  now  addressed  myself  seriously  to  business,  and 
found  my  faculties  wonderfully  improved  by  self-reliance  ; 
and  not  being  hampered  by  those  old  ganders,  I  was  so 
successful  in  nabbing  the  game,  that  I  waxed  quite 
fat,  and  my  old  coat  became  so  sleek,  that  I  could  not 
fail  to  see  the  looks  of  surprise  the  brethren  cast  toward 
my  hole  as  they  rode  by.  Such  a  strange  contradiction  is 
a  medical  fox  when  he  has  plenty  to  eat,  that  in  a  little 
while  I  waxed  so  lazy  and  good-natured  toward  my  old 
enemies,  the  ganders,  that  I  even  took  pity  on  them,  and 
returned  their  nods  as  they  footed  it  past  me,  for  I  had 
now  found  it  necessary  to  mount  a  nag ;  he  was,  to  be 
sure,  a  very  vicious  animal,  but  I  was  resolved  to  keep 
him  by  way  of  counteracting  my  good-natured  indolence. 

One  day,  as  I  lay  resting  myself,  like  Robinson  Crusoe, 
in  my  cave,  I  felt  so  thankful  for  all  the  blessings  I 
enjoyed,  and  thought  so  much  of  the  mysterious  work- 
ings of  Providence  in  getting  me  out  of  their  trap,  and 
on  the  miserable  conduct  of  my  brethren  toward  each 


274  MEDICAL  CANNIBALS. 

other,  and  their  lean  and  seedy  appearance,  that  I  re- 
solved to  do  all  I  could,  as  soon  as  my  indolence  would 
allow  me,  to  teach  them  how  to  better  their  condition. 
This  idea  got  such  a  hold  on  my  mind,  that  whenever  I 
would  hear  of  their  cruel  treatment  to  each  other  in  the 
way  of  lies  and  slander,  I  used  to  busy  myself  in  trying 
to  devise  methods  for  correcting  them.  I  thought  if  I 
could  catch  one  of  them  and  bring  him  to  my  den,  I 
would  endeavor  to  feed  him  up  a  little  and  instruct  him, 
and  then  send  him  abroad  as  a  sort  of  missionary,  to 
convert  his  brethren  from  their  cannibalism.  I  was  so 
fortunate  as  to  catch  one  from  the  identical  old  coop, 
and  I  tried  heartily,  by  every  means  in  my  power,  to  gain 
his  good  will.  He  seemed  to  take  very  kindly  to  me  for 
some  months,  and  I  assisted  him  in  several  difficult  ob- 
stetrical cases,  letting  him  talk  large  before  the  patient, 
and  listening  with  great  apparent  deference,  and  then 
doing  the  work  and  letting  him  pocket  the  fees.  After  a 
little  while  the  old  ganders  bought  him  up  with  a  small 
salary  in  the  hospital,  and  he  came  to  me  no  more.  I 
tried  several  others  who  were  more  or  less  under  the 
influence  of  the  ganders,  but  they  were  too  timid,  and 
had  as  yet  no  distinct  ideas  of  individuality  ;  they  were 
only  in  their  pin-feathers. 

Notwithstanding  my  failures  in  all  my  attempts  to  civi- 
lize the  old  anthropophagi,  I  continued  to  please  myself 
with  the  hope  that  I  should  soon  catch  a  young  savage 
that  had  escaped  with  his  life  from  his  brethren.  Should 
I  be  so  fortunate  as  to  come  across  such  a  one,  I  was 
quite  sure  he  would  be  tractable  enough,  because  he 
would  be  pretty  well  starved  and  subdued  when  they  had 
done  with  him.  I  used  to  dream  of  the  pleasure  I  would 
have  in  instructing  him  how  to  behave  like  a  human 
creature,  and  to  forbear  slandering  and  traducing  his 


TAMING  THE  MEDICAL    SAVAGES.  275 

medical  brethren.  I  had  stuck  the  sides  of  my  cave  all 
over  with  anatomical  diagrams  and  surgical  plates,  by- 
way of  stool-pigeons  to  catch  patients  ;  here  I  had  hung 
up  a  pair  of  forceps,  there  an  awful-looking  amputating- 
knife  and  a  torturing  set  of  pulleys  for  reducing  disloca- 
tions. I  slept  on  a  fracture  bed  that  my  little  House  of 
Eefuge  boys  had  made  me  when  I  used  to  lecture  to 
them,  and  give  'em  brandy  and  beef,  instead  of  salts,  and 
calomel  and  jalap.  I  had  a  chair  with  a  swing  desk  to 
it,  on  which  I  used  to  dissect,  and  draw,  and  drink  tea, 
and  eat  oysters,  etc.  etc.  In  short,  my  menage  was  very 
curious  to  behold.  All  these  I  would  teach  bi™  the 
use  of,  and  bequeath  him  when  I  should  die. 

I  was  disappointed,  however,  in  all  my  benevolent  in- 
tentions ;  I  never  could  catch  a  man  Friday  from  the 
hospital.  I  had  a  number  of  medical  parrots  of  the  mean- 
er sort ;  a  less  fortunate  kind,  who  had  nevei  got  inside 
the  hospital  crib,  and  were  entirely  ignored  by  the  surgi- 
cal ganders.  I*  discovered  them  in  my  surgical  visits 
about  the  island  ;  for  I  used  often  to  be  summoned  to 
help  them  out  of  their  scrapes  with  their  miserable  Irish 
obstetrical  and  other  cases.  I  used  every  method  that  my 
ingenuity  suggested  to  tame  them,  for  they  had  been 
taught  how  to  peck  and  scratch  by  their  hospital  exem- 
plars during  their  pupilage,  but  I  could  never  succeed  in 
taming  one  :  they  would  come  to  me  as  soon  as  I  sent 
them  the  fee,  and  they  had  slept  partially  away  the  dis- 
turbance of  their  gall-bladders  by  the  summons  which 
brought  me  to  help  them  in  their  troubles,  and  after  a 
while  I  had  even  taught  some  of  them  to  call  me  by  name, 
and  now  and  then  to  eat  my  pancakes,  and  even  to  drink 
tea  ;  but  I  never  could  make  them  eat  raw  oysters.  If  I 
could  have  done  that,  I  dare  say  I  might  in  time  have 
tamed  some  of  them  so  as  to  divert  me  in  my  solitary 


276  A  VISIT  FBOM  A  HEAD-CHEESE. 

hours  ;  but  whenever  I  tried  the  experiment,  they  made 
terrible  faces  and  left  me  in  a  fright,  and  never  returned 
to  my   cave  ;   and  yet   I  was  continually  prompted  by 
some  evil  spirit  to  try  them  with  this  peculiar  sort  of 
food.     I  had  got  a  notion  in  my  head,  that  they  would 
become  completely  enervated  and  cachectic  by  their  mis- 
erable diet  without  the  wholesome  phosphorus  I  knew 
the  delicious  bivalves  contained  ;  and  I  never  could  en- 
dure  an  animal,  either  human  or  brute,  that  was  half 
dead  and  half  alive,  like  these  poor  medical  hospital  cubs. 
One  day  I  was  thoroughly  astonished  by  receiving  a 
visit  from  one  of  the  oldest  surgical  ganders  of  the  hos- 
pital.    He  came  in  great  state  to  my  cave  in  his  carriage, 
and  rolled  himself  into  the  door  like  a  great  cheese.     He 
was   a  man  of  thick  proportions,  like  a  butcher's,  with 
considerable  formality  of  manner,  and  a  curt  utterance, 
clipping  off  his  words  as  though  fearful  of  being  too  con- 
descending to  an  inferior,  or  possibly   of  being  mis- 
taken for  a  gentleman.     He  was  clad  in  black,  most  pro- 
fessionally.    I  requested  him  to  be  seated,  in  my  usual 
polite  manner,  but  he  waved  his  refusal  most  magnifi- 
cently, and  seemed  most  beneficently  inclined  to  put  me 
at  perfect  ease  in  his  presence.     Of  course,  I  was  duly 
impressed  by  his  condescension,  for  I  had  even  then  a 
spice  of  fun  in  me,  and  determined  to  give  him  string. 

He  soon  informed  me  that  the  object  of  his  visit  was  to 
see  my  instruments  for  tho  operation  of  strabismus  or 
squinting,  "  one  of  those  little  matters  to  which  he  had 
as  yet  paid  no  attention,"  and  having  a  case  of  "  a  very 
wealthy  gentleman,"  (for  such  is  the  way  the  old  gander 
always  talks,)  he  wished  to  "  do  it  up  with  all  the  mod- 
ern improvements."  This  was  delivered  with  a  very 
condescending  smile,  in  the  most  recherche  style  of  a 
Fulton  Market  butcher  ;  of  course  I  bowed  profoundly 


A  SAD   LOSS    FOR    A    SURGICAL    CUB.  277 

to  the  gratifying  and  delicate  compliment.  I  offered  him 
the  loan  of  my  little  case,  and  explained  to  him  the  meth- 
od of  using  the  implements  without,  and  with,  an  assist- 
ant ;  for  I  had  been  obliged  generally  to  assist  myself  in 
my  lonely  peripatetic  tours  in  the  country.  He  received 
my  instructions  with  most  magnificent  impressiveness, 
pocketed  the  case,  and  rolled  himself  into  his  carriage. 
I  soon  dismissed  the  matter  from  my  thoughts,  and  after 
my  evening  Irish  visits  and  my  oysters,  turned  into  my 
fracture  bed  and  went  to  sleep. 

Next  morning  I  was  in  the  midst  of  my  aromatic  circle 
of  Irish  office  patients,  when  I  was  surprised  to  receive  a 
message  from  the  old  gander,  requesting  me  to  come 
round  to  his  office.  I  was  amazed  at  the  condescension 
you  may  be  sure,  but  I  began  to  smell  fun  ;  accordingly  I 
donned  my  long  blue,  and  did  myself  the  honor  to  go 
round,  for  he  lived  on  the  same  square  with  me.  The 
first  face  I  saw  on  entering,  was  that  of  a  gentleman  on 
whose  eye  I  had  refused  to  operate  the  day  before,  be- 
cause the  external  rectus  muscle  (the  one  that  allows  the 
eye  to  turn  inwards  and  upwards,  when  the  opposite 
one  masters  it  and  produces  that  deformity) was  so  com- 
pletely withered  and  paralyzed  that  it  would  evidently 
have  been  of  no  use  to  divide  the  internal  muscle,  as  we 
do  in  this  operation,  because  the  external  one  could  not 
pull  the  eye-ball  central,  even  if  it  were  done  never  so 
thoroughly.  I  had  grieved  to  lose  the  case,  for  I  was 
awfully  poor,  and  I  knew  he  was  wealthy  and  would  have 
given  me  a  large  fee  ;  but  as  I  could  not  have  cured  him, 
I  should  only  have  lost  reputation  either  as  a  surgeon  or 
an  honest  man — certainly  one,  and  probably  both.  In- 
deed, had  I  been  foolish  enough  to  have  attempted  it, 
even  at  the  patient's  urgent  request,  I  could  not  consist- 
ently have  taken  the  fee.     I  therefore  dismissed  the  case 


278  A  BUTCHER  SURGEON. 

•with  many  thanks,  and  a  letter  of  explanation  to  the 
kind  friend  who  had  spoken  so  highly  of  my  skill,  as  to 
produce  a  terrible  disappointment  to  the  gentleman  at 
my  refusal  to  operate.     But  the  desire  of  being  "eyes 
right"  was   so   strong  in  a  rich   bachelor  contemplat- 
ing matrimony,  that  he  found  his  way  into  the  office  of 
the   celebrated  old  hospital   gander  ;   here  he  received 
every  encouragement,  and  was  no  doubt  duly  informed 
of  my  conceit  and  ignorance  of  the  principle  of  the  oper- 
ation  ;  next  morning  was  appointed  for  its  performance. 
The  fact  that  it  was  the  very  morning  after  I  had  re- 
ceived the  condescending  call  of  the  old  gander  for  the 
use  of  my  instruments,  made  the  matter  clear  enough 
even  to  my  obtuse  perception,  as  soon  as  I  saw  the  pa- 
tient and  his  squint  eye.     I,  of  course,  returned  the  sal- 
utations of  both  the  gentlemen,  and  was  informed  that 
the  object  of  the  summons  with  which  I  had  been  hon- 
ored, was  to  get  me  to  hold  the  patient's  head !    I  avowed 
my  sense  of  the  honor  as  gracefully  as  I  knew  how,  and 
the  gander  began  to  prepare  the  instruments.     But  my 
friend  with  the  squint  eye  was  not  quite  ready  ;  he  had 
slept  upon  the  matter ;  and  my  adverse  opinion,  aided 
by  his  fears  and  the  gander's  assurances,  (he  was  to  pay 
a  good  fee,  too,)  had  expanded  the  importance  of  my 
opinion   considerably,   and    he  bluntly    asked  me    my 
present  views  of  the  probable  success  of  the  operation. 
The  gander  began  to  swell  ;  he  made   himself  a  head 
taller,  and  looked  at  his  watch.     I  replied  that  I  had  no 
new  opinion  to  offer  on  the  case  ;  I  had  come  to  assist  at 
the   operation,  and  would   willingly  do   so,  when  both 
were  ready  ;  the  case  had  now  passed  from  my  hands. 
But  all  this  wouldn't  suit  Country  by  a  long  shot ;  he 
was  determined  to  have  a  talk.     The  gander  saw  he  must 
now  use  strategy,  or  lose  the  case  ;  accordingly  he  did 


A  DISAPPOINTED  GANDER.  279 

me  the  distinguished  honor  to  take  me  into  his  private 
consulting  room,  blandly  assuring  the  patient  he  should 
have  the  benefit  of  our  mutual  opinion,  when  we  should 
come  out.  He  was  now  quite  courteous.  I  informed 
him  in  a  very  modest  way  of  my  views  'of  the  rationale 
of  the  operation,  and  the  certainty  in  my  mind  of  its  un- 
successful result,  should  the  muscle  be  divided.  My 
magnificent  friend  assured  me  I  was  entirely  mistaken, 
notwithstanding  he  knew  that  all  the  efforts  of  the  pa- 
tient could  not  budge  the  eye-ball  a  hair's  breadth  out- 
ward. I  bowed,  and  assured  him  I  was  willing  to  assist 
him,  but  could  not  change  my  opinion.  He  was  evident- 
ly full  and  ready  to  explode  ;  but  he  saw  there  was  no 
use  to  argue  the  matter.  "We  walked  out,  and  he  was 
obliged  to  state  the  conclusion  to  the  patient,  where- 
upon he  refused  the  operation,  and  took  his  departure. 
As  he  went  out  of  the  door,  I  caught  one  glance  at  the 
gander's  head,  and  thought  he  looked  like  a  magnificent 
head  cheese,  made  entirely  of  blood  and  muscle  ;  and  no 
wonder :  fifty  dollars,  thought  I,  just  gone  out  of  that 
very  door  :  he  looked  as  much  excited  as  the  proprietor 
of  old  Vauxhall  did,  when,  upon  occasion  of  a  visit  to  that 
delightful  establishment,  I  saw  two  Bowery  gentlemen 
escaping  over  the  fence  without  paying  the  shot,  and  the 
proprietor,  with  as  high  action  as  Richard  HI.  when  he 
offered  his  kingdom  for  a  horse,  summoned  the  waiters, 
and  cried  out,  "  There  goes  two  teas  and  a  brandy  and 
water !"  My  magnificent  surgical  friend  paid  me  for  it 
with  a  hearty  good  will :  I  will  relate  how,  hereafter. 


4~ 


THE   EARLY  TREATMENT  OF   CHILDREN-AIR 
AND  BATHS. 


So  very  discursive,  as  our  readers  know,  has  been  the 
mode  adopted  in  all  our  popular  works,  in  presenting 
this  subject  to  the  view  of  parents,  that  a  vast  amount  of 
really  excellent  advice  and  judicious  caution  has  been 
lost  to  many,  for  want  of  the  necessary  connection  of 
the  immediate  subject  of  instruction  with  its  legitimate 
antecedent.  There  are  many  persons,  the  constitution 
of  whose  minds  actually  requires  the  greatest  regularity 
in  the  presentation  of  a  subject,  or  else  the  best  directions 
the  writer  can  offer  entirely  lose  their  influence.  The 
reader  must  begin  at  the  beginning,  or  he  cannot  get  on 
with  any  advantage  to  himself  or  entertain  any  respect 
for  his  instructor.  With  a  perfect  conviction  of  this 
difficulty,  let  us  endeavor,  in  the  commencement  of  our 
fifth  volume,  to  make  ourselves  perfectly  understood. 
Firstly,  then,  we  differ  largely  from  our  countrymen  in 
their  ideas  of  the  superiority  of  the  female  character  of 
our  countrywomen  over  that  of  the  women  of  all  other 
nations  ;  we  do  most  honestly  and  faithfully  believe  that 
the  American  women  are  under-educated  and  over-flat- 
tered by  our  sex  (as  a  general  thing)  throughout  the 
country.  The  very  miserable  ideas  on  physical  educa- 
tion that  prevail  amongst  them  throughout  the  land,  tend 
to  the  propagation  of  those  bodily  ailments,  and  that 


AIB,   BATHS,   AND  EXEECISE.  281 

early  development  of  the  nervous  system,  that  too  often 
gives  the  young  American  girl  a  premature  appearance 
of  age,  and  embitters  the  whole  of  her  subsequent  exist- 
ence. Whilst  man  is  subjected  to  the  wholesome  vicissi- 
tudes of  mental  and  bodily  exertion  and  change,  woman, 
from  her  earliest  years,  is  often  made  the  subject  of 
overweening  anxiety  by  a  mother,  who  derives  her  only 
guide  in  the  physical  training  of  her  child  from  the  absurd 
fashion  of  the  day.  She  is  utterly  unacquainted  with  a 
single  principle  that  governs  its  animal  existence.  She 
realizes  no  more  the  necessity  of  air  and  exercise — 
[i.  e.  as  a  principle  from  which  she  cannot  depart  in  its 
training,  without  the  inevitable  result] — we  say  she  real- 
izes it  no  more  as  the  everlasting  law  of  nature,  or  the 
word  of  God,  than  she  does  the  law  of  gravitation  itself ! 
She  knows  not  even  the  actual  meaning  of  the  appear- 
ance of  its  teeth  ?  Does  she  not  feed  it  boiled  crackers, 
and  sugar  and  water?  Does  she  not  smile  when  you 
tell  her  such  conduct  is  monstrous  ;  that  the  elements 
of  her  child's  nutrition,  nearest  its  natural  food,  are 
found  only  in  the  milk  of  animals?  Does  she  know 
even  the  natural  temperature  of  its  body  ?  Why,  then,, 
shall  we  flatter  her  vanity,  and  conceal  our  true  feelings 
at  her  ignorance,  when  her  very  best  efforts  to  do  her 
duty  by  that  offspring  for  whose  preservation  she  would 
often  willingly  lay  down  her  very  life,  are  almost  certain 
to  result  in  its  death  ?  We  have  already  handled  this 
subject  at  length  in  the  article  on  the  Early  Decay  of 
American  Women.  Our  present  object  is  to  go  a  little 
more  into  detail  on  the  subject  of  air,  and  exercise,  and 
bathing,  because  we  feel  that  the  difficulty  lies  principal- 
ly in  the  absurd  idea  that  our  climate  is  not  fit  for  exer- 
cise. When  that  is  defective,  breathing  becomes  less 
necessary,  and  digestion,  and  the  assimilation  of  food, 


282  AIR,  BATHS,  AND  EXERCISE. 

must  suffer  in  a  direct  ratio ;  bathing  is  totally  misun- 
derstood. 

The  very  first  want  of  its  animal  existence,  when  the 
child  appears  in  the  world,  is  air  ;  we  have  placed  it  in 
the  motto  on  our  cover  before  all  the  other  wants  of  na- 
ture. Not  a  minute  can  elapse  when  its  connection 
with  the  mother  is  severed,  before  suffocation  will  occur, 
if  the  air  do  not  rush  into  the  mouth  and  lungs.  It  is 
the  first  spasmodic  expiration  that  produces  the  convul- 
sive cry  with  which  the  child  greets  us  the  moment  it 
enters  the  world !  it  requires  air  even  before  it  feels  the 
cold  of  the  external  world !  before  it  recognizes  the  want 
of  food!  It  is  then  apparent  that  the  apparatus  with 
which  it  appropriates  this  great  motive  life  power, 
should  be  entirely  unshackled  by  dress.  Now  there  is 
not  one  mother  in  this  great  city,  unless  amongst  those 
ladies  who  have  lately  been  professionally  educated,  that 
can  give  a  description  of  the  structure,  or  even  the  act- 
ual situation  of  the  lungs !  There  is  not  one  in  a  thous- 
and who  realizes  the  enormity  of  the  errors  so  often  com- 
mitted in  the  application  of  a  bandage  around  the  chest ; 
if  there  were,  no  nurse,  at  least  none  that  we  have  ever 
yet  seen,  would  be  allowed  to  offer  a  word  of  counsel  on 
the  subject,  much  less  to  apply  it.  It  is  extremely  doubt- 
ful if  any  pressure  whatever  should  be  permitted,  even 
from  the  usual  abdominal  bandage,  unless  the  infant 
have  some  palpable  structural  defect  in  the  walls  of  the 
abdomen.  Any  pressure  over  that  region  of  the  body 
must,  by  preventing  the  free  descent  of  the  diaphragm 
(which  is  the  principal  or  great  breathing  muscle  dividing 
the  chest  containing  the  lungs,  from  the  belly,)  any  pres- 
sure, we  assert,  even  on  the  abdominal  region,  must  di- 
minish respiration. 

The  temperature,  too,  of  the  body  of  the  child,  although 


ABSUBDITY  OF  BANDAGES.  283 

it  is  nearly  one  hundred  degrees,  and  requires  clothing 
enough  to  keep  it  as  high  as  that,  is  by  no  means  a  cri- 
terion for  that  of  the  chamber  in  which  it  is  kept ;  the 
body  is  a  heat-producing  machine  :  if  the  temperature  of 
the  chamber  exceed  sixty-five  or  seventy  degrees,  the 
lungs  cannot  have  their  required  stimulus  of  cool  air, 
and  there  will  be  slow  and  insufficient  breathing,  even  if 
the  chest  and  abdomen  be  not  crippled  with  a  bandage. 
This  matter  of  temperature  must  be  regulated  by  the 
wants  of  the  child  and  not  the  mother ;  if  she  requires 
more  warmth,  let  it  be  supplied  by  clothing.  If  indiges- 
tible food  be  given,  such  as  pap  made  of  boiled  bread, 
flour,  farina,  or  any  of  the  humbug  catch-pennies  of  the 
shops,  with  the  certificates  of  medical  ignorami  attesting 
their  value,  the  intestines  will  be  filled  with  flatus  from 
its  decomposition,  and  this  also  will  obstruct  breathing, 
as  well  as  produce  pain.  Look  for  one  moment  at  the 
universal  custom  of  covering  a  child's  face  with  a  hand- 
kerchief ?  Try  it  yourself,  and  judge  of  the  inevitable 
suffering  from  the  want  of  fresh  air. 

We  have  known  the  most  delicate  infants,  so  delicate 
as  to  make  it  apparent  to  the  meanest  medical  intellect 
that  they  required  all  the  heat  their  bloodvessels  could 
produce,  and  the  warmest  clothing  to  retain  it  — we  have 
known  them  to  be  kept  screaming  for  fifteen  minutes  at 
a  time  in  a  cold-bath,  with  the  view  of  strengthening 
them!  Others,  again,  with -cheeks  like  roses,  and  skins 
like  boiled  lobsters,  par-boiled  in  water,  the  temperature 
of  which  had  been  tried  by  a  gin-drinking  nurse's  hand! 
No  nursery  should  be  considered  furnished  without  a 
thermometer ;  a  bath  becomes  a  directly  exhausting 
agent,  if  over  ninety-seven  to  one  hundred  degrees,  by 
its  relaxing  power  ;  if  under  sixty-five,  which  is  the  com- 
mon summer  temperature,  and  the  child  be  delicate,  and 


284  TEMPERATURE  AND  EFFECTS   OF  BATHS. 

produce  little  heat,  of  course  it  robs  it  of  what  it  does  pro- 
duce too  rapidly,  and  insures  also  debility.  From  three 
to  five  minutes  is  long  enough  for  the  longest  bath  ;  a 
quarter  of  a  minute,  or  even  ten  seconds,  is  enough  for 
the  tonic  effect  of  a  cool  bath  of  sixty-five  degrees,  on  a 
delicate  child,  and  then  the  body  should  be  instantly 
dried  and  comfortably  clothed.  The  nurse  who  cannot 
do  all  this  in  ten  minutes,  ought  to  be  discharged.  Un- 
less perfect  comfort,  as  evinced  by  cheerfulness  or  sleep, 
follow  the  use  of  the  bath,  it  is  always  to  be  considered 
injurious. 

We  believe  that  the  insane  use  of  prolonged  baths,  as 
is  so  frequently  observed  in  this  city,  is  one  of  the  great- 
est evils  of  the  day,  and  has  more  to  do  with  the  rheuma- 
tism and  chronic  diarrhoea,  than  people  imagine.  Our 
countrymen  are  great  sensualists,  and  in  their  eating  and 
drinking  often  carry  things  to  excess.  A  bath  is  a  neces- 
sary thing  ;  it  is  not,  as  we  call  it,  a  luxury  ;  luxuries,  as 
such,  are  always  injurious.  We  know  a  gentleman  who 
reads  his  newspaper,  and  smokes  his  cigar,  in  a  warm 
bath  ;  of  course  he  is  a  fool,  though  a  good-natured  and 
agreeable  man  ;  the  bath  is  often  prolonged  for  half  an 
hour.  One  day  he  nearly  fell  asleep  ;  fortunately  he  left 
the  warm  water  running,  to  see  how  high  he  could  bear 
the  temperature !  the  overrunning  of  the  water  probably 
saved  his  life  ;  it  might  have  proved  a  very  easy  way  to 
step  out  of  his  mortal  body.  Always  remember,  that  the 
temperature  of  the  blood  is  from  ninety-seven  to  one 
hundred  degrees,  and  that  a  bath  above  that  temperature, 
and  prolonged  over  five  minutes,  becomes  progressively 
debilitating  ;  it  is  tonic  and  strengthening  to  the  system 
in  proportion  as  the  temperature  is  lowered,  and  the  shock 
sudden.  A  plunge  bath  in  cold  water  between  July  and 
September,  is  a  great  tonic  to  those  who  can  bear  it ; 


HIP  BATHS.  285 

the  skin  should  always  feel  a  glow  in  five  minutes  after 
drying,  or  at  most  ten,  or  it  is  hurtful.  Young  ladies 
make  a  most  insane  use  of  the  cold  bath  ;  on  one  occa- 
sion we  were  summoned  to  attend  one,  who  actually 
fainted  in  the  salt  water  bath ;  she  had  made  a  bet  of 
gloves  with  another  how  long  they  could  stay  in  ;  such 
was  the  stubborness  of  her  will,  that  she  remained  in  the 
water  more  than  an  hour  and  a  half  before  she  sank  to 
the  bottom  ;  her  companion  proved  stronger,  and  gave 
the  alarm,  but  was  too  weak  to  assist  in  raising  her  ;  she 
recovered  with  difficulty,  although  immersed  less  than 
a  minute. 

Hip  baths  are  tonic  or  soothing,  as  prolonged,  or  used 
warm  or  cold ;  in  consequence  of  the  general  debility  of 
our  city  women,  warm  ones  are  rarely  admissible  ;  this 
bath,  indeed,  is  so  powerful  that  it  is  almost  invariably 
misapplied.  We  shall  take  up  the  subject  separately, 
when  treating  of  the  family  of  uterine  diseases  that  re- 
quires its  use. 

The  idea  is  entertained  by  many  thinking  persons,  that 
an  infant  should  not  be  clothed  in  the  customary  for- 
mal manner,  with  skirts,  petticoats,  etc.  There  cannot  be 
a  question  of  the  soundness  of  such  views.  Nature  re- 
quires no  such  paraphernalia  ;  the  most  rapid  and  health- 
ful growth  is  attainable  under  the  simplest  attire  con- 
sistent with  the  preservation  of  animal  heat. 

All  the  articles  in  the  Scalpel,  on  the  organic  elements 
of  the  body,  and  on  the  structure  of  the  heart  and  lungs, 
are  necessarily  connected  with  this  subject ;  but  they  are 
too  extensive  for  this  volume. 


NATURE  AS  A  PHYSICIAN. 


THE  NATURAL  POWER  OF  THE  BODY  TO  CUKE    DISEASE,  VS.  THE    IMPERTINENCE 
OF  DRUG-GIVING. 

"  I  honor  the  glorious  name  of  medicine ;  its  promises  so  full  of  hope  to  man- 
kind ;  but  for  that  which  is  called  the  •  art  of  prescribing '  I  have  no  respect 
whatever."— Montaigne. 

The  prejudices  of  mankind  are  sacred,  and  he  who 
wages  war  with  them  must  bring  to  the  encounter  an  in- 
flexible spirit,  and  patience  not  easily  exhausted.  The 
man  who  holds  to  a  proposition  because  supported  by 
reason,  is  in  some  cases  aware  that  the  premises  are  not 
well  laid,  or  that  he  may  have  erred  in  his  deductions  ; 
but  he  who  holds  by  prejudice  has  no  such  misgivings. 
Premises  and  deductions  are,  with  him,  of  no  account ; 
fact  is  supplanted  by  fancy,  and  assertion  is  equivalent  to 
proof.  Authority  with  this  class  of  men  is  omnipotent — 
precedent  their  polar  star  ;  the  most  comfortable  faith 
supports  them,  and  their  zeal  knows  no  faint-heartedness. 
Argument  they  condemn  of  course,  and  their  purpose  in 
action  is  well  expressed  by  the  slang  phrase,  "go  it 
blind."  Heaven  forbid  that  I  should  be  so  mad  as  to 
engage  in  a  tilt  with  such  antagonists  on  any  subject ; 
least  of  all  on  that  of  pill-giving.  Invested  with  the  dig- 
nity of  academic  sheep-skin,  they  are  as  secure  in  the 
admiration  of  their  votaries,  as  the  Pope  of  his  vassals. 

"The  three  learned  professions,"  says  that   shrewd 
thinker,  the  Professor  at  the  Breakfast-table,  "  have  but 


THE  NATUBAL  POWEBS   OF  THE  BODY.  287 

recently  emerged  from  a  state  of  quasi-barbarism."  This 
remark  is  amusingly  sustained  by  the  fact  that  few  intel- 
ligent members  of  either  of  the  three  can  be  met  with, 
who  will  not  readily  admit  the  substance  of  the  truth  of 
it,  as  applied  to  the  other  two,  while  maintaining  the  al- 
most perfect  maturity  of  his  own.  We  may  say  of  all  of 
them,  that  they  bear  the  mud  of  prejudice  upon  them  as" 
does  the  recently  hatched  partridge  its  shell,  and  so  thick 
and  tenacious  is  this  foul  incrustation,  that  the  difficulty  of 
penetrating  it  amounts  in  many  cases  to  an  impossibility. 
This  is  especially  the  case  in  our  profession,  when  it  is 
the  subject  of  inquiry  into  the  capability  of  the  unaided 
animal  system  to  resist  disease  or  repair  its  damages. 
On  this  question  we  have  no  stores  of  experience  to  draw 
upon  in  our  investigation,  for  since  time  began,  as  far  as 
history  is  concerned,  we  can  find  no  disease  or  injury  of 
the  human  frame,  that  has  not  been  "met,"  "treated," 
"  cured,"  or  bedevilled  by  some  Obi- woman,  medicine- 
man, or  "sad  and  learned  doctor."  Greasing  the  spear- 
point  was  once  a  cherished  remedy  for  the  wound  it  had 
inflicted. 

As  far  as  we  can  penetrate  the  arcana  of  diseases,  there 
are  two  chief  divisions  of  the  catalogue ;  those  which, 
from  the  first,  are  characterized  by  a  malignant  type,  the 
prognosis  of  which  is  a  fatal  termination,  and  those 
which,  after  a  longer  or  shorter  duration,  usually  result 
in  a  pai*tial  or  complete  restoration  to  health.  The  latter 
comprise  by  far  the  larger  number  of  diseases,  and  it  is  to 
them  that  we  would  at  present  direct  attention.  Now 
the  question  is,  how  far  such  ought  to  be  left  to  the 
recuperative  efforts  of  nature,  or  to  such  efforts  protected 
and  sustained  by  such  philosophic  adjustment  of  the  cir- 
cumstances surrounding  the  patient,  as  will  give  them  the 
best  opportunity  to  act  without  being  in  any  manner 
13 


288  THE  IMPERTINENCE  OF  DRUG-GIVING. 

affected  by  the  agents  of  the  materia  medica.  To  illus- 
trate, we  will  take  the  word  Fever,  with  the  ideas  it 
commonly  represents.  There  is  thirst.  Without  enter- 
ing into  a  pathological  inquiry  of  the  cause  or  nature  of 
morbid  thirst,  we  follow  the  indication  by  administering 
water.  There  is  an  exalted  sensibility  of  the  organs  of 
sight  and  hearing,  with  pain  in  the  head.  We  will  obey 
the  indication  here  by  removing  the  respective  external 
causes  of  annoyance.  There  is  a  sensation  of  heat.  We 
will,  if  possible,  obtain  a  cool  atmosphere.  There  is  mus- 
cular weakness.  We  will  relieve  the  voluntary  muscles 
of  the  necessity  of  action,  by  placing  the  body  in  the 
horizontal  position.  In  this  manner  we  will  adjust  those 
circumstances  which  are  visibly  and  positively  under 
our  control,  in  the  best  possible  manner  to  allow  the 
enfeebled,  depressed  powers  of  the  system  to  regain  their 
healthy  state.  Can  we  do  more  ?  "  Yes,"  cries  the  un- 
plumed  gosling,  fresh  from  the  professional  hatching- 
nest.  "Yes,"  exclaims  senile  stupidity.  "Fever  is  my 
specialty,"  says  the  one,  gravely  conning  his  list  of 
"febrifuges."  "  I  have  been  in  practice  forty  years,  and 
have  cured  hundreds  of  cases,"  exultingly  boasts  the 
other.  I  admire  aspiring  youth,  I  venerate  age  ;  but  I 
cannot  permit  the  crude  flippancy  of  the  one,  nor  the 
mill-horse  stupidity  of  the  other,  to  blind  me  to  the  con- 
viction that  the  God-established  powers  of  life  can  be  in 
no  respect  made  more  efficient  by  such  impertinent 
interference. 

If  all  human  reasoning  were  as  loose  and  illogical  as 
that  which  has  been  used  in  the  service  of  experience  to 
prove  the  efficacy  of  medicine,  we  should  be  at  this  day 
in  extreme  ignorance  of  many  of  the  arts  and  sciences, 
which  are  the  boast  of  the  nineteenth  century.  As  it 
regards  astronomy,  the  earth  would  be  still  standing  on 


MIRACLE-WORKERS.  289 

a  turtle  or  something  of  the  kind,  and  the  sun  going 
around  it,  ready  to  "  stand  still "  or  move  backward  to 
accommodate  the  wonder-recording  historian  of  the  feats 
of  miracle-workers.  '  The  tea-kettle  might  have  sent  its 
steam  from  its  nozzle  till  this  time,  but  no  steamship 
would  have  brought  New  York  and  Liverpool  within  ten 
days  of  each  other  ;  and  there  would  be  but  slight  expec- 
tation of  a  submarine  telegraph  next  year.  By  this  loose 
logic,  sequency  of  events  is  taken  as  proof  of  causation, 
and  is  thus  made  the  foundation  of  medical  experience. 
Nothing  can  be  more  illusory.  To  make  such  evidence 
conclusive,  it  should  be  corroborated  by  a  closely  cross- 
examined  and  uncontradicted  mass  of  it.  Is  there  any 
such  proof  of  the  ultimate  value  of  any  drug  that  was 
ever  forced  or  coaxed  into  that  truth-loving  and  almost 
reasoning  organ,  the  human  stomach?  Any  one  at  all 
conversant  with  the  subject  knows  that  it  is  directly  the 
reverse  of  this.  Who  has  not  at  times,  in  professional 
coteries,  witnessed  the  expression  of  polite  and  placid 
incredulity  with  which  some  zealous  believer  in  his  own 
skill  is  listened  to  while  he  relates  the  success  of  a  par- 
ticular, and  as  he  conceives,  a  new  remedy.  Each  lis- 
tener has  his  favorite,  intolerant  of  rivalry,  and  when 
these  various  fondlings  are  compared,  they  are  often 
found  to  agree  but  in  one  particular,  that  is,  the  odor  of 
the  drug-shop.  It  is  true  that  some  are  inert  articles  ; 
but  again,  some  are  the  most  virulent  poisons.  A  Minie 
rifle  in  the  hands  of  a  skillful  marksman,  who  is  neither 
an  enemy,  an  insane,  or  a  careless  man,  is  an  instrument 
that  we  look  at  with  a  quiet  feeling  of  safety,  for  at 
the  same  time  that  we  know  that  its  owner  will  hit 
whatever  he  aims  at,  we  know  that  he  will  not  point  his 
gun  at  us.  Could  the  same  thing  be  said  of  any  drug 
on  the  list  of  the  materia  medica,  or  of  any  drug-pre- 


/ 


290  UNCERTAINTY  OF  REMEDIES. 

scriber  in  Christendom  ?  Not  by  any  one,  I  dare  engage, 
who  knows  the  susceptibility  of  the  human  system — the 
complex  aud  inappreciable  sympathies  which  influence  it 
— the  baneful  properties  of  the  drug,  and  the  positive 
ignorance  of  the  prescriber  of  what  will  be  its  effect  in  any 
given  instance  of  disease. 

In  the  diseases  we  are  considering,  ultimate  recovery 
by  the  natural  process  is  the  rule,  death  the  exception. 
On  the  contrary,  the  uninformed  patient  considers  death 
the  natural  termination  of  all  morbid  conditions  that  are 
not  cured  in  time.  The  meddling  doctor  takes  advan- 
tage of  this  prejudice — exhibits  his  remedy  "  in  time  " — 
the  patient  recovers,  grateful  for  the  "cure,"  and  the 
doctor  notes  it  as  another  proof  of  the  efficacy  of  medi- 
cine- in  general,  and  of  his  unerring  skill  in  particular. 
Now,  considering  the  discrepancy  of  opinions  noticed 
above,  the  fair  presumption  is,  that  the  so-called  remedy 
had  no  effect  whatever,  beneficial  or  otherwise,  but  was 
probably  enveloped  and  lost  in  the  effete  mass  within  the 
intestines  and  safely  conducted  out  of  the  system  ;  or  its 
baneful  properties  were  overcome  by  the  recuperative 
forces  of  nature,  to  which  the  evil  of  the  disease  and  the 
poison  of  the  medicine  were  equally  indifferent ;  or  per- 
haps in  a  certain  way  the  drug  was  beneficial,  by  making 
an  impression  which  aroused  certain  sympathies,  of  the 
existence  of  which,  as  connected  with  the  specific  pre- 
scription, the  prescriber  was  ignorant,  or  utterly  unable 
to  appreciate  ;  in  fine,  the  result  of  the  movement  was 
accidental  health,  instead  of  accidental  death.  This  view  is 
strongly  corroborated  by  the  fact,  that  we  seldom,  if 
ever,  meet  with  two  medical  Solomons,  whether  con- 
nected with  schools,  or  standing  alone  as  individual 
sages,  who  pursue  or  teach  the  same  kind  of  treatment 
in  any  given  disease  ;  yet  both  boast  their  "  cures,"  each 


MODES  OP  TREATMENT.  291 

insisting  on  the  exclusive  merit  of  his  method,  backed  by 
his  patient's  affidavit.  Those  who  remember  the  treat- 
ment of  the  cholera  of  1832,  an  example  of  mark  among 
many,  will  appreciate  the  truth  of  this  as  far  as  we  could 
ascertain  by  conversation  with  different  individuals. 
After  the  subsidence  of  the  epidemic,  no  physician  du- 
ring its  continuance  lost  more  or  less  than  six  patients  ; 
as  it  regards  the  treatment,  while  some  relied  on  unlim- 
ited quantities  of  brandy  and  opium,  others  saved  innu- 
merable cases  by  the  use  of  ice,  bleeding,  and  tartar 
emetic ! 

The  treatment  of  the  Typhoid  Pneumonia,  that  first 
appeared  as  an  epidemic  in  1812,  isolated  cases  of  which 
have  been  occurring  ever  since,  and  of  which,  we  pre- 
sume, President  Harrison  died,  is  highly  corroborative 
of  the  views  expressed  above.  One  party  treated  it  by 
bleeding  and  purging,  and  the  other  with  brandy  and 
other  stimulants.  Some  recovered  under,  and  in  spite 
of,  each  method,  thus  "heaping  up"  the  proofs  of  the 
correctness  of  each.  Who  shall  gainsay  such  evidence  ? 
Certainly  no  one  in  any  individual  case — but  we  take  our 
stand  on  the  firm  ground  of  sound  reason,  so  often 
extolled  and  so  seldom  followed,  and  assert  that  the 
sequence  of  the  recovery  to  the  prescription  affords  no 
conclusive  proof  of  the  necessary  dependence  of  the 
result  on  the  treatment,  nor  would  it,  were  a  thousand 
instances  of  the  same  kind  adduced  in  corroboration. 
Yet  it  is  by  such  evidence  that  the  practice  of  drug-pre- 
scribing is  supported.  This  being  our  view  of  the  case, 
we  would  gladly  doff  our  cap  and  make  our  lowest 
obeisance  to  Homoeopathy  for  the  great  truth  it  has 
helped  to  teach  us,  of  the  utter  uselessness  of  medicine 
in  most  cases,  were  it  not  that  while  it  has  successfully 
sought  the  truth  it  has  lost  all  title  to  gratitude,  and 


292  NATUEE  VS.   MEDICINE. 

rendered  the  truth  useless,  by  shrouding  it  in  falsehood. 
The  assertion  that  the  division  or  attenuation  of  any 
thing  in  nature  will  increase  its  specific  power,  whatever 
that  may  be,  is  so  grossly  false,  that  we  do  not  believe 
that  any  other  age  of  the  world  than  our  own,  past  or 
future,  ever  did  or  ever  will  listen  to  such  absurd  non- 
sense. It  is  pitiful  to  see  Philosophy  stoop  from  her 
high  eminence  to  cater  to  Superstition  and  Prejudice  for 
the  sake  of  the  contemptible  fruits  of  fraud.  In  this 
way  the  great  good  that  we  might  have  received  has  been 
rendered  worse  than  of  no  avail,  by  the  falsehood  it  has 
taught,  that  recovery  from  disease  depends  upon  the 
most  persistent  drug-taking.  The  He  is  made  to  knock 
the  truth  over.  Better  ignorance  a  thousand  times,  than 
knowledge  prostituted  to  such  vile  purposes. 

It  is  strange  that  the  healing  powers  of  nature,  so  uni- 
versally relied  on  in  the  practice   of  modern   surgery, 
should  have  taught  so  little  to  the  medical  practitioner. 
He  has  before  him  the  history  of  the  ignorance  of  the 
ancient  surgeons,  contrasted  with  the  demonstration  of 
the  existence  of  the  sufficing  efficacy  of  the  life-forces  in 
the  modern  practice,  and  yet  derives  no  useful  lesson 
from  the  example.     He  sees  in  a  broken  bone  or  a  sword- 
cut,  nature  instantly  set  to  work,  by  vital  and  certain 
processes,  to  repair  the  injury,  and  this  she  effects  with- 
out the  impertinent  interference  of  external  means,  pro- 
vided a  fair  field  be  allowed  for  her  operations.     But  in 
the  department  we  are  considering,  where  the  morbid 
and  the  counteracting  influences  are  exerted,  as  it  were, 
behind  a  screen,  the  physician  seems  to  make  his  blind- 
ness an  excuse  for  boldness,  and  thrusts  his  weapon  in 
the  dark,  necessarily  uncertain  where  the  blow  will  fall, 
whether  on  enemy  or  friend,  or  the  depth  of  the  wound 
it  will  inflict.     The  idea  of  ascertaining  and  being  gov- 


MEASLES  NOT  TO   BE   "  TREATED."  293 

erned  by  fixed  rules  in  the  administration  of  medicine,  if 
the  object  i8  the  ultimate  benefit  of  the  individual  patient, 
is,  from  the  nature  of  things,  impossible.  Disease  is  not 
matter,  and  it  cannot  be  lined  and  squared  and  made  to 
obey  those  fixed  rules  to  which  we,  with  certainty,  sub- 
ject material  substances.  That  in  certain  cases  we  can 
procure  certain  effects,  is  unquestionable — but  when  we 
reflect  that  we  may  arrest  an  apparently  morbid  symp- 
tom, without  knowing  but  it  may  be  a  link  in  a  chain  of 
salutary  movements,  which,  to  be  beneficial,  should  not 
be  disturbed,  our  self-complacency  may  be,  perhaps,  a 
little  troubled.  That  such  is  the  case  in  some  diseases 
we  know.  I  will  adduce  Measles  as  one  example.  Now 
here  is  a  disease  made  up  of  different  phenomena  linked 
together,  and  following  each  other  with  as  much  regu- 
larity as  is  exhibited  in  the  planetary  or  other  well- 
ascertained  movements  in  nature,  and  invariably  result- 
ing in  health,  that  is,  when  there  is  no  impertinent 
interference,  designed  or  accidental.  Yet  I  have  noticed 
that  when  this  disease  is  prevailing  in  some  of  our  large 
cities,  the  weekly  bills  of  mortality  frequently  show  the 
number  of  deaths  ranging  as  high  as  three  and  four  per 
cent,  of  the  whole  number. 

More  or  less  of  the  evil  attending  drug-interference 
attaches  to  men  of  the  best  minds  in  the  profession  ;  and 
while  saying  this,  we  proudly  challenge  the  world  to  pro- 
duce from  any  other  class,  an  equal  number  of  men  of  the 
same  high  order  of  intelligence,  of  culture,  and  of  moral 
excellence.  Never  yielding  to  the  weariness  of  labor, 
their  charity  is  exhaustless  and — silent.  No  voice  rever- 
berates through  the  arches  of  cathedral  roofs  in  praise  of 
their  benevolence,  no  trumpet-blasts  from  the  market- 
place proclaim  their  good  deeds,  but  noiselessly  they 
"pursue  the    even    tenor   of    their   way,"  binding    up 


294  THE  SUPERSTITIOUS    NATURE  OF  MAN. 

wounds  and  solacing  misery.  If  the  strictures  we  have 
made  have  any  just  application  to  such  men,  with  what 
unmitigated  reprobation  should  we  visit  the  ignorant 
and  unprincipled,  who  for  speculative  and  sinister  ends 
have  stolen  into  the  sacred  corps,  and,  disguised  under 
its  time-honored  mantle,  have  gone  forth  to  the  slaughter, 
till,  loaded  with  ill-gotten  gains — "  the  price  of  blood  " — 
they  are  at  once  enrolled  among  the  Plutocracy — take 
unquestioned  possession  of  the  seats  of  honor,  and  from 
thence  dictate  to  the  world  their  articles  of  faith,  and 
codes  of  ethics.  For  such,  the  prejudice  of  the  people  in 
favor  of  the  mysterious  efficacy  of  drugs  is  an  unfailing 
resource.  They  can  not  overdraw  their  credit.  The 
tendency  of  mankind  to  worship  mystery  and  believe  in 
miracle  is  an  enigma  hard  to  solve.  Men  naturally  love 
truth,  they  like  not  to  be  told  falsehoods  ;  but  surround 
a  lie  with  mystery,  and  they  surrender  their  judgment, 
their  suspicion,  and  their  doubts  at  once.  Allege  in  sup- 
port of  any  absurdity  a  supernatural  agency,  and  their 
common  sense  is  lulled  to  sleep,  and  this  in  face  of  the 
fact  that  in  all  the  works  of  God  there  is  neither  mystery 
nor  miracle. 

There  is,  undoubtedly,  much  in  nature  that  is  not 
understood  by  man,  but  this  is  clearly  owing  to  his  not 
having  travelled  far  enough  on  the  free  and  open  road  of 
knowledge  that  lies  before  him — the  road  of  never-vary- 
ing fact,  where  the  unfailing  effect  always  follows  the 
sufficient  cause  ;  the  road  which  leads  to  the  true  knowl- 
edge of  "  Him  with  whom  there  is  no  variableness  neither 
shadow  of  turning,"  the  road  "through  nature,  up  to 
nature's  God." 

The  following  remarks  from  Montaigne,  {Essais,  liv.  2. 
ch.  37,)  though  two  hundred  years  old,  are  in  some  re- 
spects so  pertinent  to  the  subject  in  hand  that  I  cannot 


REMARKS  FROM  MONTAIGNE.  295 

resist  the  temptation  to  quote  them ;  for,  though  not 
over-looking  the  many  splendid  improvements  of  modern 
times,  we  must  acknowledge  that  man,  in  many  respects, 
remains  very  much  as  he  was  in  the  time  of  the  old 
philosopher. 

"But  physicians  have  this  advantage,"  (says  Mon- 
taigne,) "according  to  the  old  apothegm,  that  the  sun 
shines  upon  their  success,  while  the  earth  hides  their 
blunders  ;  and  besides  this,  they  have  a  very  advantage- 
ous fashion  of  serving  themselves  with  all  sorts  of  events  ; 
for  that  which  fortune,  that  which  nature,  or  some  other 
strange  cause,  (of  which  the  number  is  infinite,)  produces 
in  us  of  good  and  salutary,  it  is  the  privilege  of  the  phy- 
sician to  attribute  to  himself.  All  the  happy  success  of 
the  patient  who  is  under  hi*  rule  he  holds  the  credit  of — 
the  circumstances  which  cure  me,  and  which  have  cured 
a  thousand  others  who  call  no  physician  to  their  aid,  they 
usurp  the  credit  of  in  their  subjects  ;  and  as  to  the  evil 
accidents,  they  disavow  them  altogether,  attributing  the 
fault  to  the  patient  for  reasons  so  vain  and  trifling,  that 
they  have  no  fear  of  failing  always  to  find  a  sufficiently 
large  number  of  them.  '  He  has  lain  with  his  arm  un- 
covered'— 'he  has  heard  a  strange  noise' — 'they  have 
left  his  window  open ' — '  his  mind  is  troubled  by  anxiety.' 
Sometimes  a  word,  a  dream,  a  turn  of  the  eye,  seems 
sufficient  excuse  to  discharge  them  from  blame,  or  if 
they  please  they  serve  themselves  with  the  worst  aspect 
of  affairs  by  means  which  can  never  fail  them.  So  they 
comfort  us,  when  the  patient  finds  himself  heated  by 
their  applications,  with  the  assurance  that  it  would  be 
much  worse  without  their  remedies.  He  whom  they  have 
thrown  into  a  quotidian  chill,  would  have  had,  without 
their  interference,  a  continued  fever.  They  guard  not 
against  doing  their  work  badly,  since  the  evil  the  patient 
13* 


296  THE  PLAN  OF  GOD. 

experiences  redounds  to  their  advantage.  The  combat 
of  the  drug  with  the  disease  is  always  at  our  expense, 
since  the  battle  is  fought  within  our  borders,  and  the 
drug  is  an  unreliable  ally,  by  its  nature  inimical  to  our 
health.  Let  us  leave  things  a  little  to  themselves — the 
order  which  governs  fleas  and  moles,  govorns  also  men 
when  equally  submissive.  We  may  add  to  our  ills  by 
querulous  impatience,  but  this  brings  us  no  relief.  There 
is  an  imperious  and  unvarying  order  in  nature,  unaffected 
by  the  movements  of  our  fear  or  dispair,  which  serve 
only  to  retard  the  relief  which  this  order  would  bring. 
Disease  has  its  course  as  well  as  health,  and  attempts  to 
break  one,  by  the  aid  of  the  other,  often  result  only  in 
the  disorder  of  both.  Let  us  follow  the  plan  of  God — it 
gently  leads  those  who  will  follow,  and  drives  those  who 
will  not,  both  their  rage  and  their  medicine  together. 
Procure  a  purgative  for  your  head  :  it  will  be  better 
employed  than  for  your  stomach." 


MEDICAL   SHEEP-SHEARING. 


"  Great  cry  and  little  wool,"  as  the  Devil  said  when  he  sheared  his  hogs. 

The  sheep-shearing  of  Nabal  is  said  to  have  been 
attended  by  the  Devil ;  and  it  is  quite  probable,  that 
rural  festival  was  the  first  incentive  to  the  operation  their 
shepherd  was  performing  upon  those  interesting  quadru- 
peds he  is  said  to  watch  over  so  affectionately,  when  he 
gave  utterance  to  the  classical  quotation  with  which  we 
have  embellished  this  production.  There  has  been  quite 
as  terrific  a  squealing  kept  up  since  we  have  been  shear- 
ing our  flock.  We  are  not  exactly  in  league  with  his 
majesty,  although  we  employ  him  occasionally,  but  our 
sincerest  resolves  to  let  the  brethren  slip  for  a  number  or 
so,  are  constantly  opposed  by  some  infernal  imp  of  his,  if 
not  the  veritable  old  shepherd  himself,  by  inciting  the 
brethren  to  commit  such  extravagant  absurdities,  and  to 
cut  up  such  diverting  tricks  in  their  Colleges  and  Acade- 
mies, that  we  are  constantly  incited  to  invite  him  to  the 
diversion.  Indeed,  we  declare  from  the  bottom  of  our 
diaphragm — nay,  from  our  spleen  itself,  beloved  reader — » 
we  cannot  help  it,  they  are  so  funny. 

And  yet  it  beseemeth  us  to  have  a  care — albeit  our 
organ  of  caution  is  not  very  large — lest  we  meet  with  the 
reward  of  that  curiously  disposed  philosopher  (slander- 


298  MEDICAL  SHEEP-SHEAKING. 

ously  called  a  madman)  who,  as  the  veracious  historian 
tells  us,  had  an  extraordinary  penchant  for  the  inflation 
of  dogs !  We  feel  the  more  disposed  to  tell  thee  of  the 
doings  of  our  predecessor,  because  it  has  been  hinted 
that  our  sketches  are  no  great  shakes,  indeed,  slightly 
stupid,  as  some  of  our  friends  assert.  Ah !  beloved 
brethren,  did  ye  but  know  the  diaphoretic  effect  one  of 
our  shearings  produces,  on  ourself  as  well  as  you,  the 
cudgeling  of  our  poor  brain,  the  sharpening  of  the 
shears,  and  then,  what  is  most  to  be  deplored,  the 
meagreness  of  the  clip,  ye  would  think  this  medical 
sheep-shearing  no  easy  matter ;  and  when  we  come  to 
blow  up  our  curs,  amidst  all  the  squealing  and  yelping, 
ye  would  pity  us  outright. 

But  to  the  philosopher  :  There  was  a  madman  in 
Seville,  who  fell  into  one  of  the  most  ridiculous  and  ex- 
travagant conceits  that  ever  madman  did  in  the  world. 
He  sharpened  the  point  of  a  hollow  cane,  and  catching  a 
dog  in  the  street  or  elsewhere,  he  set  his  foot  on  one  of 
the  cur's  hind  legs,  and  then  lifting  up  the  other,  thrust 
his  cane  into  the  bowels,  and  straightway,  with  much 
labor,  blew  him  up  as  round  as  a  ball,  and  then  giving 
him  a  thump  or  two,  let  him  go,  saying  to  the  by- 
standers, who  were  always  very  many,  "  Well,  gentlemen, 
what  think  you  ?  Is  it  such  an  easy  matter  to  blow  up  a 
dog  ?"  Now  we  are  by  no  means  satisfied  of  the  insanity 
of  this  inflator  of  dogs.  Although  our  medical  curs 
don't  require  the  operation,  for  they  blow  themselves  up 
tolerably  well  without  the  aid  of  a  cane,  we  feel  inclined 
to  repeat  the  experiment.  Who  knows  but  the  philoso- 
pher was  in  search  of  some  great  therapeutic  truth, 
destined,  had  it  only  been  discovered,  to  occupy  a  niche 
in  the  temple  of  fame,  and  the  brains  of  some  of  our 
medical  contemporaries.     Have  we  not  Hydropathy,  Ho- 


MEDICAL  SHEEP-SHEARING.  299 

mceopathy,  Neuropathy,  etc.,  etc.  ?  "Why  not  Ventupathy  ? 
There's  a  hint  for  you,  ye  enterprising  philanthropists. 
Verbum  sap — we  already  feel  our  immortality — we  shall 
go  down  the  stream  with  Hahnemann,  Priessnitz  and 
Dr.  Kirby. 

The  Homoeopathic  philosophers  have  scared  up  some 
capital  fun  for  us ;  they  have  gone  to  considerable  ex- 
pense (to  be  paid  prospectively  when  the  new  College 
shall  be  organized)  in  recalling  that  valorous  gentleman 
from  his  eight  years'  rustication  in  a  village  up  the  River, 
whither  he  had  gone  to  refresh  himself  after  that  awful 
midnight  encounter  with  the  four  robbers  some  eight 
years  since.  We  saw  him  a  few  days  ago,  and  were  de- 
lighted to  perceive  him  in  high  feather,  and  evidently 
ready  for  a  tilt  with  Allopathy  or  a  whole  host  of  rob- 
bers. 

But  let  us  introduce  the  Doctor  formally — like  old 
Jack  Falstaff  recounting  his  exploits  to  Prince  Hal. 

11 1  am  a  rogue  if  I  were  not  at  half-sword  with  a  dozen  of  them, 
two  hours  together.  I  have  'scaped  by  a  miracle  ;  I  am  eight  times 
thrust  through  the  doublet  ;  four,  through  the  hose  ;  my  buckler  cut 
through  and  through  ;  my  sword  hack'd  like  a  hand-saw,  ecce  signum. 
I  never  dealt  better  since  I  was  a  man  ;  all  would  not  do.  A  plague 
on  all  cowards?  Let  them  speak  ;  if  they  speak  more  or  less  than 
truth,  they  are  villains  and  the  sons  of  darkness." 

Oh,  but  the  Doctor's  description  next  morning  after 
the  robbery,  in  one  of  the  papers,  was  graphic !  Some- 
what of  its  solemn  impressiveness  comes  over  our  spirit  at 
midnight  even  yet.  We  quote  some  of  the  more  dramatic 
passages  :  "  I  awoke  with  the  consciousness  of  a  living 
movement  near  my  bed."  .  .  "  I  saw  the  dim  figure  of  a 
man  through  my  half-closed  eyelids  as  through  a  thick 
mist."  .  .  "Instantly  every  sense  became  on  the  alert, 


300  MEDICAL  SHEEP-SHEARING. 

and  the  eyes  and  ears  strained  to  their  utmost."  "I 
could  hear  the  blood  as  it  rushed  through  the  carotids 
near  my  ears."  Our  own  blood  runs  cold  to  think  of 
it :  and  then  the  astonishing  dexterity  with  which  the 
Doctor  (in  the  dark !)  threw  the  bedclothes  over  the  rob- 
ber's head  by  means  of  his  feet  with  all  the  precision  of 
a  South  American  lasso  horse-hunter,  the  amazing  pres- 
ence of  mind  with  which  he  seized  the  sword-cane  "  so 
providentially  standing  at  his  chamber  door,"  and  the 
race  down  stairs,  with  the  dreadful  rencounter  at  the 
hall  door  where  the  awful  wound  was  inflicted,  the 
wrestling  and  death  grip  in  the  office,  the  doctor  getting 
most  skillfully  "  the  under  hold,"  and  the  warm  life-blood 
of  the  victim  pouring  over  "  his  gray  hair,"  when  one  of 
the  robbers  already  embraced  by  the  doctor  at  the  hall 
door,  was  accidentally  stabbed  by  his  brother  robber  in 
the  dark,  and  exclaimed,  "  I  am  stabbed — "  and  the  great 
clasp  knife  found  next  morning  in  that  awful  pool  of 
blood  ;  and  the  night-gown  "  all  stiff  with  gore  "  "  so  that 
it  would  stand  alone !"  Like  Duncan,  one  feels  inclined 
to  ask — 

"  What  bloody  man  is  that 
Who  seemeth  by  his  plight," 

As  though  he  might 

"The  multitudinous  sea  incarnadine, 
Making  the  green  one  red." 

And  that  blessed  rib  which  received  the  point  of  the 
dagger  and  saved  the  Doctor's  heart,  and  elicited  that 
eloquent  finale.  [See  the  account  published!]  "What 
do  we  not  owe  that  rib  ?  more  perhaps  than  that  unfor- 
tunate one  possessed  by  our  great  progenitor ;  but  a 
truce  with  nonsense.  We  are  rejoiced  to  observe  the 
"  living  movements  "  of  the  doctor  show  no  tendency  to 


MEDICAL  SHEEP-SHEARING.  301 

decay,  and  trust  that  his  excellent  fancies  have  not  been 
impaired  by  his  long  absence  ;  doubtless  an  encounter 
with  the  brilliant  and  piquant  conversation  of  the  Homoe- 
pathic  brethren,  will  revive  those  delightful  memories  of 
former  years,  that  lent  such  enchanting  and  romantic 
gracefulness  to  his  conversation,  and  enable  bim  to 
afford  us  further  insight  into  an  extraordinary  depart- 
ment of  medical  psychologies,  and  another  dish  for  the 
amusement  of  our  readers.         *         *         * 

It  has  often  been  said  that  "  truth  is  stranger  than 
fiction,"  and  we  think  we  are  now  going  to  settle  in  the 
affirmative  that  assertion  for  good,  no  matter  what  of 
proof  may  be  added  hereafter.  The  romantic  and  terri- 
ble encounter  with  the  giants — no — with  the  robbers — 
(heaven  help  us,  we  are  even  yet  in  a  state  of  nervous 
agitation  at  the  bare  description)  which  is  only  equalled 
by  the  doings  of  that  glorious  mirror  of  chivalry,  whose 
deeds  will  never  die  :  we  say  the  Doctor's  romantic 
encounter  with  the  robbers,  was  actually  fairly  matched 
by  a  bona  fide  adventure  of  our  friend  Dr.  E s,  of  Sec- 
ond Avenue.  The  Doctor's  modesty  would  have  entirely 
concealed  the  whole  affair,  had  it  not  been  for  the  unavoid- 
able publicity  that  it  attained  by  the  legal  steps  necessary 
for  the  commitment  of  his  robbers,  for  they  were  no 
spirits  conjured  up  by  a  fertile  invention  to  attain  noto- 
riety (which  the  Doctor  studiously  avoids,  being  in  the 
enjoyment  of  a  position  to  which  he  is  as  much  entitled 
jby  his  science  as  the  elegance  of  his  manners,)  but  real 
flesh  and  blood  robbers — and  no  less  than  three  of  them, 
all  taken  by  the  Doctor  with  the  aid  of  his  sons,  two 
mere  lads,  in  flagrante  delicto,  searching  for  his  plate 
closet ;  and  all  well  and  sufficiently  bound,  and  marched 
at  midnight  by  the  Doctor  to  the  station-house,  sword  and 
dagger  in  hand !     The  facts  are  simply  these  :  The  Doctor 


302  MEDICAL  SHEEP-SHEARING. 

was  awakened  by  a  "  living  movement "  not  "  at  his  bed- 
side," but  below  stairs.  His  senses  being  usually  pretty 
well  on  the  alert,  and  his  nerves  well-strung — the  Doctor 
was  educated  at  West  Point — he  stopped  not  for  the 
superfluous  details  of  the  toilet  (which  by  the  way  he 
was  obliged  to  commence  when  he  had  bound  the  robbers 
and  left  them  in  custody  of  his  sons,)  but  went  with  all 
his  motors  unobstructed  by  clothes  to  the  top  of  the 
basement  stairs,  where  he  could  see  the  enterprising 
gentlemen  at  work  at  a  closet.  Instantly  returning  up 
stairs  to  the  second  story,  where  his  sons  slept,  he 
aroused  them  with  cautious  attention  to  avoid  noise,  and 
armed  them  with  sword  and  dagger,  selected  from  a  well 
supplied  armamentarium  of  ancient  implements  of  war, 
which  he  keeps  as  a  museum  for  his  children.  "With 
great  caution  and  no  noise,  he  opened  the  front  and  rear 
doors,  and  placed  one  of  the  boys  outside  at  the  area 
gate  where  the  robbers  had  entered,  and  another  at  the 
back-door  in  the  yard  which  they  had  opened,  and  then 
went  to  the  head  of  the  basement  stairs,  and  in  a  loud 
voice  summoned  a  surrender,  at  the  same  time  proclaim- 
ing his  arrangements  in  the  front  and  rear  outlets,  and 
ordering  his  sons  to  shoot  down  instantly  any  one  who 
attempted  to  escape.  The  first  who  surrendered  was  a 
powerful  negro.  The  Doctor  marshalled  him  to  the  back 
piazza,  and  ordered  the  robber  to  he  on  his  face,  which 
he  deemed  it  prudent  to  do,  though  armed  with  a  billy  ; 
the  son  was  stationed  over  him  with  a  drawn  sword,  and 
ordered  to  cut  him  down  should  he  attempt  to  arise  ;  no 
sooner  had  the  Doctor  turned  to  seek  the  others,  who 
afraid  of  the  pistol  in  the  hands  of  the  young  man  at  the 
gate,  remained  passively  awaiting  their  fate,  than  the 
negro  attempted  to  overpower  his  guard.  Instantly  re- 
turning, the  Doctor  settled  him  with  a  blow  on  the  head  ; 


MEDICAL  SHEEP-SHEABING.  303 

he  then  lay  passive.  By  this  time,  however,  oAe  of  the 
robbers  attempted  to  escape  by  the  area,  but  the  youth 
drove  him  back  by  threatening  to  shoot  him,  at  the  same 
time  levelling,  pistol  fashion,  a  Malay  crease,  the  only 
weapon  he  had.  The  other  also  attempted  to  escape 
into  the  yard,  but  was  driven  back  by  the  other  youth. 
By  this  time  the  ladies  of  the  family  had  alarmed  the 
watch,  who  were  with  great  difficulty  persuaded  to  enter, 
and  would  not  have  done  so,  but  for  the  Doctor's  decisive 
assurance  that  there  was  no  danger.  One  of  the  robbers 
feigiJed  drunkenness,  and  had  nearly  succeeded  in  impos- 
ing upon  the  dogberries,  but  the  Doctor  speedily  removed 
the  impression  by  soundly  cuffing  his  ears.  The  whole 
three  were  now  thoroughly  awe-stricken,  and  being  well 
bound,  they  were  dispatched  to  the  police,  and  are  now 
serving  out  their  time  in  the  State  Prison. 

There!  beloved  reader,  have  we  not  redeemed  our 
promise  ;  these  were  neither  old  Jack's  men  in  buckram, 
nor  Kendal  green  ;  and  they  were  secured  every  one  of 
them  ;  we  may  say  with  old  fat  paunch,  "you  rogue,  an' 
they  were  not  bound,  I  am  a  Jew,  an  'Ebrew  Jew." 

And  now,  mine  excellent  and  faithful  reader,  having 
accompanied  us  thus  far,  through  our  sketches  of  our 
less  romantic  brethren,  we  must  defend  our  claim  as  tne 
historical  Quixote  in  our  attack  on  the  medical  wind- 
mills, and  require  thee  to  accompany  us  to  the  grand 
denouement  of  the  midnight  rencounter  with  those  rob- 
bers, which  was  so  sublimely  described,  in  the  papers  of 
the  day,  by  the  ever  memorable  and  chief  actor  on  the 
awful  occasion.  We  suffered  the  other  sketch  to  inter- 
vene, dear  reader,  with  the  view  of  thy  partial  recovery 
from  the  effect  of  our  introduction  to  the  great  tragedy. 
Now  comes  the  grand  finale  by  way  of  a  coup  de  theatre. 

The  day  after  the  affair,  there  was  an  equal  amount  of 


304  MEDICAL  SHEEP-SHEAKING. 

horror  and  amusement  in  the  community,  touching  the 
"  awful  robbery  and  attempted  murder,"  as  it  was  duly 
announced  by  the  penny-a-liners.  "Whilst  some  of  the 
more  innocent  and  amiable  of  our  citizens  were  pale  with 
terror,  there  were  other  hardy  spirits,  chiefly  doctors, 
who  received  the  dreadful  news,  with  hearty  peals  of 
laughter  ;  and  some  of  the  brethren  not  particularly  dis- 
tinguished for  politeness,  actually  put  their  irreverent 
fingers  to  the  sides  of  their  noses.  The  Doctor  appeared 
most  gracefully  and  elegantly  accoutered  with  a  black 
silk  scarf  to  suspend  a  wounded  arm  ;  "  the  biceps  «aus- 
cle,"  as  he  learnedly  informed  us,  having  been  wounded 
in  the  encounter.  It  was  observed,  however,  that  on  the 
slightest  irregularity  of  movement  in  his  magnificent 
pair  of  bays,  the  ruling  passion  would  assert  its  power, 
and  the  Doctor,  who  is  a  great  equestrian,  would  in- 
stantly grasp  the  whip  with  great  vigor  with  the  wounded 
arm.  The  whole  affair  appeared  next  day  but  one,  most 
eloquently  and  graphically  written  out  by  the  Doctor, 
with  a  grand  religious  finale,  quite  a  prayer.  So  great  a 
sensation  was  produced  by  it,  that  our  enterprising 
citizen,  Mr.  Mitchell,  of  the  Olympic,  announced  its 
appearance  as  a  grand  melo-drama.  But  those  wretched 
creatures,  the  doctors,  persisted  with  their  vile  innuen- 
does and  irreverent  laughter  ;  soon,  however,  their  laugh- 
ter was  turned  to  wonder,  by  a  circumstance  equally 
unexpected  and  extraordinary.  Four  days  after  the  rob- 
bery, the  body  of  a  man  who  had  evidently  died  sud- 
denly, and  apparently  from  a  stab  in  his  neck  directly 
over  the  jugular  and  carotid,  was  found  in  a  sack  high 
and  dry  on  the  shore,  at  Turtle  Bay,  East  River !  it  was 
brought  to  the  Tombs  for  recognition  and  an  inquest, 
and  it  was  confidently  predicted  that  the  robber  from 
whose  neck  came  the  torrent  of  blood  that  deluged  the 


MEDICAL  SHEEP-SHEARING.  805 

Doctor,  and  "  stiffened  his  gray  hair  and  night-dress  with 
gore,"  was  found,  and  the  accomplices  would  thereby  be 
detected.  Some  of  the  more  innocent  members  of  the 
profession,  and  a  great  number  of  the  ladies,  were  already 
satisfied,  before  the  inquest,  that  the  unfortunate  man 
had  met  his  death  by  the  valiant  arm  of  the  Doctor.  The 
knowing  ones,  however,  were  confident  that  Reynard 
had  "  doubled,"  and  quietly  and  mirthfully  awaited  the 
denouement.  In  a  couple  of  days,  no  one  appearing  to 
claim  the  body,  a  coroner's  inquest  was  held,  and  it  was 
found  that  the  wound  in  the  neck  not  only  did  not  pene- 
trate the  carotid  or  jugular,  but  from  the  absence  of  all 
those  marks  that  prove  inflammation,'  and  the  existence  of 
life  in  the  subject  when  the  wound  was  inflicted,  that  it 
was  actually  made  on  the  dead  body !  there  being  no  other 
cause  of  death  visible  externally,  and  this  being  totally  in- 
adequate to  account  for  the  death  of  even  an  infant,  as  a 
table-spoonful  of  blood  could  not  have  been  lost  by  it,  the 
Coroner  was  about  to  open  the  body  to  seek  further 
light  on  the  dark  and  mysterious  transaction,  when  a 
young  doctor  attached  to  one  of  the  dispensaries  ap- 
peared, and  immediately  recognized  the  body  as  that  of  a 
patient  who  had  died  a  week  previous  under  his  care,  of* 
inflammation  of  the  lungs,  and  was  buried  in  Potter's 
Field !  To  all  this  he  made  oath  ;  the  barber  also  who 
shaved  the  man  testified  to  the  same,  and  a  verdict  was 
given  accordingly.  At  this  moment  the  Doctor  appeared 
before  the  jury  with  that  awful  clasp-knife — but  it  was 
too  late  ;  the  verdict  was  given  :    Died  from  pneumonia, 

at  No. Second  Avenue,  and  conveyed  from  Potter's 

Field  by  some  unknown  person  to  Turtle  Bay,  East  River ! 

The  Doctor,  disgusted  with  the  reception  of  his  tragedy, 

and  the  merriment  produced  by  that  accursed  young 

doctor,  sought  the  quiet  influence  of  the  country  to  calm 


306  MEDICAL  SHEEP-SHEABING. 

his  perturbed  spirits.  He  now  appears  rejuvenated  and 
refreshed,  ready  to  fire  his  small  homoeopathic  ammuni- 
tion down  the  throats  of  his  admirers,  and  his  intellectual 
artillery  at  the  devoted  Allopaths. 

There,  bewildered  and  beloved  reader !  what  think  you 
of  that?  Are  we  not  a  great  people  ?  Who  will  say  that 
our  profession  is  destitute  of  romance  ?  Alas !  for  you, 
Munchausen  ;  and  as  for  you,  bright  mirror  of  ancient 
chivalry,  hide  your  diminished  head  ;  remain  in  the  sable 
mountain  and  bewail  your  fate  forever  ;  your  glory  has 
departed  ;  D now  wears  the  helmet. 


A  BOY'S 'THEOLOGICAL   EXPERIENCES. 


FAMILY  ANTECEDENTS— PARENTAL  AUTHORITY  IN  THE  LAST  GENERATION— COR- 
POREAL PUNISHMENT  AND  ITS  EFFECTS— READING  HABITS— A  "  SERIOUS  LIBRA- 
RY"—TWO  BOOKS  AND  THEIR  CONTENTS— ETERNAL  PUNISHMENT— FANCIES 
ABOUT  HELL — ILLUSTRATION  OF  THE  IDEA  OF  ETERNITY— OVERPOWERING 
DREAD  OF  BOTH,  AND  OF  DEATH— IDEAS  ABOUT  DROWNING — IMAGINED  LOCAL- 
ITIES OF  HELL — OF  PEOPLE  IN  IT— THE  DAY  OF  JUDGMENT. 

What  I  have  undertaken  to  narrate  is  no  fiction,  no 
story  of  complex  or  simple  incident.  If  it  possess  inter- 
est, it  will  be  because  it  is  what  its  title  indicates — a  boy's 
theological  experiences — a  statement  of  mental  suffer- 
ings, I  believe  by  no  means  uncommon  in  youth — youth 
subject  in  early  life  to  what  are  called  serious  impres- 
sions. 

I  was  born  of  a  religious  family.  I  came  of  plain  coun- 
try stock,  which  based  itself  on  the  soil  for  at  least  three 
generations,  as  far  back  as  we  have  traditional  knowl- 
edge of.  My  grandfather  on  the  maternal  side  and  my 
father  were  the  first  of  their  respective  families  who 
relinquished  farming  for  a  city  life.  Let  me  say  a  little, 
preliminary  of  the  latter. 

He  was  of  Puritan  blood,  which  had  localized  itself  in 
one  spot.  Our  family  name  is  extant  on  many  a  tomb- 
stone in churchyard,  and  I,  in  my  boy-days,  have 

played  with  farm  laborers  on  my  uncle's  estate,  of  my 
own  name  and  probable  lineage.  Left  an  orphan  at  an 
early  age,  not,  however,  before  his  mother  had  unwisely 
married  again,  my  father  had  been  put  out  to  business 


308  a  boy's  theological  experiences. 

very  early  in  life.  He  was  a  weakly  boy  of  nervous  tem- 
perament ;  lie  has  told  me  that  his  step-father  scarcely 
expected  him  to  survive.  His  life,  like  those  of  many  of 
his  generation,  had  passed  monotonously  enough  in  a 
confined  social  atmosphere  up  to  the  time  of  his  mar- 
riage, and,  indeed,  continued  so  for  long  afterwards.  An 
apprentice  in  a  country  town,  a  steady  attendant  at 
church  and  Sunday-school,  at  first  in  the  capacity  of 
scholar  and  then  of  teacher,  a  clerk  in  a  store,  a  thrifty 
shopkeeper — he  had  five  thousand  dollars  on  coming  of 
age,  by  his  father's  will — a  prosperous  citizen  generally, 
and  finally,  who  had  retired  from  business  at  the  early 
age  of  thirty,  on  a  modest  competence  ;  these  were  his 
successive  experiences.  "When  married,  he  rented  a  de- 
cent house  in  the  neighborhood,  and  brought  my  moth- 
er, who  was  city-bred,  to  live  in  it. 

We  are  all  more  or  less  made  up  of  our  ancestors.  I 
think  my  own  individuality  may  be  the  better  under- 
stood by  knowledge  of  the  stock  I  came  of.  I  had  two 
brothers,  the  second  of  whom  died  within  a  year  of  his 
birth.  Ned,  my  elder,  and  I  were  brought  up  like  most 
boys  in  religious  families.  Our  mother  loved  us  dearly. 
Our  father  loved  us  too,  for  he,  I  believe,  was  of  affec- 
tionate nature,  though  of  nervous,  irritable  disposition. 
But  he  had  the  old  world  notion  of  authority,  and  con- 
sidered his  children  as  much  subjects  as  children,  in  which 
I  think  he  was  wrong.  But  parental  rule  in  that  gener- 
ation had  a  heavy  hand  ;  it  was  very  commonly  a  rank 
despotism  tempered  by  maternal  affection. 

The  elder-born  of  a  family  are  generally  subject  to 
stricter  discipline  than  their  luckier  later-born  brothers 
and  sisters  ;  time  mollifies  parents'  tempers  ;  they  learn 
wisdom  from  past  mistakes,  and  a  milder,  more  judi- 
cious treatment  often  succeeds  to  one  frequently  produc- 


a  boy's  theological  experiences.  309 

tive  of  misconception,  suffering,  and  mutiny.  This  is 
especially  the  case  in  religious  families.  It  was  so  to 
some  extent  in  ours. 

My  father  beat  us,  not  I  think  cruelly,  though  some- 
times capriciously.  I  dare  say  we  deserved  it,  yet  as  I 
remember  we  were  rather  afraid  of  him  than  possessed 
by  any  other  feeling,  the  result  was  bad.  Anything  an- 
tagonistic to  love  and  confidence  between  parent  and 
child  must  be  harmful.  This  fear  and  the  estrangement 
attendant  on  it  grew  up  rather  in  our  boy-days  than  our 
childhood.  Then  I  was  his  favorite.  I  recollect  trot- 
ting about  a  certain  quarry  with  him  of  sunny  after- 
noons, and  into  the  woods,  and  his  cutting  sticks  for  me. 
Often  I  have  thought  kindly  of  this,  years  afterwards, 
when  I  have  been  thousands  of  miles  away,  with  the 
ocean  between  us. 

He  beat  us,  I  repeat.  At  the  age  of  thirty,  returning 
home  after  a  five  years'  absence  in  a  distant  quarter  of 
the  earth,  I  found  the  instrument  of  our  not  unfrequent 
chastisement — a  leather  strap — in  a  disused  drawer. 
And — I  am  sorry  to  say  it,  but  truth  is  truth — my  heart 
swelled  wiih  anger  at  the  sight  of  it.  Hardest  of  all 
things  to  forget  in  this  world  is  a  sense  of  past  injustice, 
of  undeserved  infliction  on  those  who  are  weak  and  can 
not  help  themselves. 

Let  me  get  to  my  theological  experiences  ;  I  only  speak 
of  others  as  illustrative  of  my  early  training.  I  had 
always  a  taste  for  reading,  preferring,  indeed,  poring 
over  a  book  in-doors  to  healthier  indulgence  in  boys'  play 
in  the  open  fields,  which  is  hardly  natural.  My  father 
considered  reading,  unless,  "  serious  "  books,  only  a  syn- 
onym for  idleness.  "  A  pack  of  lies  and  nonsense,"  was 
his  definition  of  all  fictitious  literature,  however  pure 
and  harmless.     The  word  "  novel "  has,  even  now,  to  my 


310  A  BOY'S  THEOLOGICAL  EXPERIENCES. 

ears,  a  sound  of  indefinite  wickedness,  though  I  have 
read  hundreds  of  them,  and  hope  some  day  to  write  at 
least  one;  I  had  little  chance  of  getting  at  other  than 
"  serious  "  literature.  Our  family  book-case  contained 
only  evangelical  magazines,  Zion's  Caskets,  Whitefield, 
"Wesley,  Edwards's  and  Huntingdon's  sermons,  Bunyan's 
works,  Fox's  Martyrs,  and  the  like.  I  read  these  in  de- 
fault of  more  appropriate  intellectual  nutriment.  Not 
that  I  remember  being  especially  encouraged  to  do  so, 
though  I  believe  it  was  looked  upon  as  a  good  thing  that 
%  boy  should  take  to  such  serious  subjects.  My  father 
thought  so,  at  least,  and  never  inclining  to  cheerful  views 
of  existence,  would  have  considered  any  sombre  impres- 
sions I  might  derive  from  such  sources  as  beneficial. 
For  my  dear  mother,  she  was  then  like  her  children,  too 
much  under  authority,  and  never  thought  of  the  mis- 
chief that  might  come  of  it. 

Dear  old  Bunyan  !  may  I  be  forgiven  for  ranking  you 
with  the  others?  Of  course  I  loved  the  "  Pilgrim's  Pro- 
gress," (indeed  I  learnt  a  poetical  version  of  it  by  heart, 
on  promise  of  possessing  the  book,  by  my  mother,)  and 
got  no  harm  out  of  thai.  I  cannot  say  the  same,  though, 
for  the  biography,  "  Grace  abounding  to  the  Chief  of 
Sinners."  Yet  I  wish  there  had  been  no  worse  books  in 
our  library.  Two,  I  have  cause  to  hold  in  especial 
detestation.  These  were  entitled  "The  Arian's  and 
Socinian's  Monitor,"  and  "Dialogues  of  Devils,"  both 
written  by  a  Beverend  Mr.  McGowan.  The  first  was  the 
worst.  How  well  I  remember  the  accursed  book !  Old- 
ish type,  the  ends  of  the  top  and  bottom  lines  occasion- 
ally shorn  off  by  the  careless  or  unskillful  binder — every 
way  mean  and  common-looking ;  what  a  hell  of  mental 
torment  did  those  pages  open  to  me.  Sell,  that  is  the 
word.     The  book  was  all  about  hell.     I  will  relate  the 


a  boy's  theological  expeeiences.  311 

plot  of  it,  which  I  remember  as  well  as  though  I  perused 
it  yesterday. 

A  teacher  of  the  tenets  of  Arius  and  Socinus,  the 
"  monitor "  of  the  title,  has  died,  and  the  narrator,  his 
disciple,  wrapped  in  a  state  of  spiritual  self-complacency, 
rambles  into  the  recesses  of  a  gloomy  wood,  the  shades 
of  which  grow  darker  as  he  proceeds.  Presently  he  loses 
his  way,  and  directly  the  infernal  pit  yawns  before  him. 
He  sees  it,  I  think,  through  an  archway  of  ribbed  rock, 
and  in  a  sea  of  raging  flame,  "  the  fire  that  dieth  nqt, 
neither  is  it  quenched,"  he  beholds  the  lost  soul  of  his 
late  preceptor,  damned  forever.  The  spirit  addresses 
him  at  some  length,  the  main  bulk  of  the  book  consisting 
of  its  observations.  It  closes  with  the  appearance  of 
devils  who  drag  it  off  to  fresh  torments. 

There  is  nothing  in  this,  ingenious,  imaginative,  or 
inventive,  nothing  but  vulgar  horror,  and  trite,  thread- 
bare execution.  All  the  worse  for  its  simplicity  in  its 
power  of  addressing  a  thoughtful  boy's  mind.  Before  I 
tell  how  it  did  so,  let  me  speak  of  the  other  book.  That 
may  be  dismissed  briefly  ;  both  are  on  the  same  plan. 

In  "  Dialogues  of  Devils  "  the  narrator  again  wanders 
into  the  wood,  and  there,  either  in  a  deep  ravine  or  pit, 
while  secreted  within  an  archway,  overhears  the  talk  of 
certain  fiends.  They  appear  (or,  at  least,  were  drawn  in 
an  engraving  forming  a  frontispiece  to  the  volume)  with 
horns,  hoofs,  and  the  usual  vulgar  diabolic  accessories. 
They  have  Latinized  names,  as  Crudelis,  Infidelis,  etc. 
Their  conversation  is  of  their  influence  and  power  over 
mankind,  being  sometimes  of  a  grimly  facetious  char- 
acter. 

These  books  I  read  and  pondered  over,  especially  the 
former,  until  their  main  subject,  eternal  punishment, 
took  exclusive  possession  of  my  mind.  It  seemed  to  me 
14 


S12  A  boy's  theological  expebiences. 

as  it  has  to  many  before  and  since — I  need  not  say  erro- 
neously— that  this  one  tenet,  eternal  damnation,  was  the 
main  doctrine  of  Christianity.  At  least  it  overshadowed 
all  others.  I  could  think  of  little  else  as  appertaining 
to  it. 

To  be  damned  in  hell  forever  and  ever !  I  began  to 
revolve  the  meaning  of  these  tremendous  words  and 
slowly  to  shape  one.  Hour  after  hour,  day  by  day,  and 
night  after  night  I  thought  of  it,  always  starting  from 
the  conviction  that  that  was  my  destiny.  How  could  I 
dispute  it  ?  Had  I  been  converted  ?  had  I  received  that 
miraculous  change  of  heart  without  experiencing  which 
all  were  under  the  just  sentence  of  a  wrathful  God  ?  I 
knew  well  enough  that  my  life,  hitherto,  had  been  simply 
a  boy's  life,  untroubled  by  any  such  questions,  that  I 
didn't  like  going  to  church  twice  on  Sundays,  that  I 
thought  learning  a  collect  or  psalm  before  I  got  any 
fruit  after  dinner  an  infliction,  that  I  regarded  religion 
in  general  as  something  disagreeable  and  repressive, 
something  that  interfered  with  one's  likings  and  pleas- 
ures. Secretly  I  wished  my  parents  had  not  been  relig- 
ious. I  knew  families  who  were  not  so  ;  the  boys  were 
jollier,  went  out  to  parties  and  had  pocket-money. 

All  this  I  knew  of  myself  and  felt  very  wicked.  H 
ever  boy  were  inherently  subject  to  damnation,  I  was. 
As  remarked,  I  meditated  on  my  presumed  inevitable  lot 
continually. 

A  place  full  of  fire,  of  dreadful  inconceivable  intensity 
and  fierceness,  which  never  went  out  or  slackened,  peo- 
pled with  horrible  devils  who  tore  and  rent  you  with 
fangs  and  hooked  fire-forks,  with  monstrous  serpents, 
ten  thousand  thousand  times  bigger  than  the  boa-con- 
strictor in  the  magazine  we  took  in  ;  this,  in  which  my 
body,  so  changed  that  it  wouldn't  burn  up,  was  to  suffer 


a.  boy's  theological  experiences.  313 

more  torment  than  I,  with  continual  trying,  could  begin 
to  think,  was  my  boyish  conception  of  Hell.  This,  in 
which  I  should  burn,  always  ;  I  had  burnt  my  hand  once 
with  a  red-hot  poker  and  knew  the  pain  of  it.  I  had  had 
a  fever  and  lain  in  hot  agony  and  weary  wakefulness.  I 
thought  of  these  sufferings,  endeavored  to  exaggerate 
them  a  hundred  fold,  summoned  up  all  that  I  knew  of 
pain,  to  aid  me  to  form  some  idea  of  hell.  I  began  to 
ponder  on  it  in  detail,  especially  attempting  to  realize 
some  faint  impression  as  to  its  eternal  duration. 

I  had  met  an  illustration  in  some  book,  sermon,  or 
magazine,  which  seemed  to  attempt  this  pretty  effectu- 
ally. It  will  probably  be  recognized  by  religious  people. 
Here  it  is  : 

Suppose  the  water  in  the  ocean,  or  the  sand  upon  the 
sea-shore,  to  be  decreased  by  a  single  grain  or  drop  every 
ten  thousand  years:  when  the  whole  bulk  of  sea  and  sand 
should  be  exhausted,  that  immeasurable  length  of  time 
might  represent,  as  it  were,  one  second  of  eternity  1 
And  this  Eternity  was  to  be  passed  in  Hell ! 
I  lay  of  nights  lengthening  out  the  dreadful  idea,  and 
thinking  of  the  people  who  were  there  already.     It  seemed 
shocking  that  anybody  should  be  able  to  go  to  sleep,  to 
eat  and  drink,  to  laugh,  to   do   daily  business  in  the 
world  when  such  awful,  real  suffering  was  going  on  every 
moment  of  our  lives,  and  had  been  going  on  long  before  we 
were  born,  would  keep  on  after  the  world  was  burnt  up. 
Folks  didn't  think  of  it,  of  course,  but  how  could  they 
help  thinking  of  it?     Childhood  is  selfish,  so  I  cannot 
say  these  reflections  on  the  fate  of  others  were  prominent 
in  my  mind  ;  they  occurred  occasionally.     Mostly  I  cared 
about  myself.     I  began  to  be  very  much  afraid  of  dying. 
When  I  heard  of  loss  of  life  by  accident,  I  shuddered 
at  the  idea  that  it  might  have  happened  to  me.    We 


314  a  boy's  theological  experiences. 

lived  near  a  canal,  a  pretty  winding  canal,  with  grassy 
fields  on  one  side  of  it,  a  tow-path  on  the  other,  and  low- 
arched  bridges  which  could  be  raised  for  the  convenience 
of  passing  barges.  How  I  dreaded  that  canal !  How  I 
remembered  that  under  one  of  those  bridges  a  boy  had 
been  drowned !  How  black  and  awful  the  shadows  al- 
ways looked  at  that  spot,  I  remember,  as  though  con- 
scious of  having  closed  over  two  piteously  clutching 
hands,  a  ghastly  face  with  a  gurgling  noise  in  its  throat 
as  it  went  down,  and  at  last  only  a  cold,  naked  human 
body.  When  I  walked  by  the  canal  with  my  father  I  al- 
ways shrank  to  the  outer  side. 

Not  that  drowning  or  death  was  so  terrible,  but  what 
came  after  it.  I  used  to  envy  the  animals  immensely, 
their  existence  seemed  so  complete  and  satisfactory  ;  they 
were  not  to  blame  for  anything  they  did ;  they  had  no 
souls  ;  they  died  and  there  was  an  end  of  them.  How 
happy!  No  fear  of  hell  there.  If  I  could  only  have 
been  a  dog,  now,  or  even  a  pig.  He  was  only  killed  and 
made  into  bacon,  and  what  was  a  sharp  knife  to  hell  fire  ? 
Always  burning ! 

At  first  I  fancied  hell  must  be  in  the  centre  of  the 
earth,  because  of  the  volcanoes.  It  was  an  appalling 
thing  to  be  walking  over  it,  over  the  tormented  souls  of 
people  I  had  perhaps  known.  I  recollected  an  hostler, 
employed  by  a  gentleman  who  lived  next  door  to  us,  who 
had  been  discharged  for  some  small  theft,  and  had  died 
subsequently  of  a  fever.  I  liked  the  man  :  he  once  gave 
me  a  horse's  bit,  broken.  But  I  thought  him  very 
wicked,  for  he  swore  and,  I  was  told,  got  drunk.  These 
traits,  in  conjection  with  the  theft,  made  me  conclude 
that  he  must  have  gone  to  hell.  I  wondered  whether  I 
should  know  him  there  ;  I  had  heard  that  the  damned 
hated  and  tormented  one  another,  and  fancied  him  flying 


a  boy's  theological  experiences.  315 

at  me  with  a  dreadful  cry,  and  more  dreadful  coun- 
tenance. 

Then  I  thought  that  the  sun  was  helL  This  idea  came 
upon  me  suddenly  of  a  summer's  sunset,  when  the  broad 
bright  disk  of  the  dying  day-god  looked  like  an  orb  of 
intolerably  lurid,  liquid  name.  It  appeared,  too,  so  like 
what  I  fancied  of  the  Creator,  to  put  hell  to  a  double  use  ; 
beneficial  as  well  as  terrible.  I  became  quite  sure  of  this 
identity,  and  for  a  long  time  never  looked  at  the  sun 
without  thoughts  of  the  agonies  of  which  it  was  the  seat. 
All  of  this  went  on  simultaneously  with  my  broodings  on 
these  agonies  as  my  inevitable  and  unavoidable  lot.  For 
weeks  and  weeks  I  made  no  question  of  my  damnation. 

The  texts  in  Scripture  on  the  subject  filled  me  with 
terror.  I  was  very  well  acquainted  with  them,  and  par- 
ticularly with  the  book  of  Revelations,  which  possessed 
peculiar  fascinations  for  me.  The  tremendous  fancies 
therein,  culminating  in  the  great  Day  of  Judgment,  when 
I  should  be  bidden  to  depart  forever  into  the  lake  of  fire 
and  brimstone,  and  my  mother  would  be  caught  up  into 
heaven — I  never  doubted  that — were  overpoweiingly  real 
to  me.  Perhaps  the  most  dreadful  fancy  of  all  was  that 
my  mother  would  be  so  changed  that  she  would  think  it 
right  that  I  should  be  damned,  and  forget  me.  Once  a 
thunderstorm  at  night  produced  such  an  overwhelming 
apprehension  of  the  end  of  the  world,  that  I  sat  up  in 
bed  in  an  agony,  and,  at  my  brother's  request,  prayed 
aloud.     But  he  only  shared  my  terrors  temporarily. 

I  couldn't  tell  anybody  about  them.  Once,  I  ventured 
on  a  few  words  to  my  mother,  when  she  answered  :  "  My 
dear,  that's  nothing  to  do  with  you  ;  Christ  died  for  you, 
if  you  believe  in  him  you  needn't  think  of  such  things." 
But  I  could  not  take  hold  of  the  idea  presented,  I  could 
only  think  of  helL 


316    a  boy's  theological  experiences. 

Before  all  this  befell  me,  I  had  been  fond  of  the 
Heathen  Mythology  ;  we  had  a  book  of  it.  Somehow  I 
longed  to  have  been  born  in  the  times  when  that  was  the 
current  religion.  Jupiter,  Neptune  and  the  rest,  seemed 
nothing  like  so  terrible  as  the  avenging  God  of  the  Bible  : 
I  was  not  afraid  of  them  ;  their  doings  were  almost  hu- 
man. I  even  had  a  decided  affection  for  Neptune,  and 
recollect  feeling  hurt,  when,  years  afterward,  I  found 
him  in  Homer,  humiliated  by  Jupiter.  Though  I  be- 
lieved, yet  I  couldn't  quite  fancy  that  the  pagans  were 
all  in  hell,  and  at  any  rate  it  appeared  they  must  have 
escaped  the  dread  of  it  while  living,  and  that,  I  thought 
no  small  gain.  My  boyish  conceptions  of  paganism  were 
of  course  erroneous  and  imperfect.  It  always  presented 
itself  as  a  pleasant  creed  to  me,  and  I  never  could  entirely 
realize  its  falsity.  I  have  hardly  done  so  to  this  day  ;  I 
seem  to  fancy  that  the  gods  and  goddesses  of  the  prime- 
val world  must  have  lived  once,  dying  out  or  disappearing 
before  the  approach  of  a  harder,  more  materialistic  time, 
which  then  I  regretted  to  have  been  born  in.  Secretly, 
too,  I  sympathized  with  the  Philistines  and  hated  the 
Jews. 

Searching  the  Scriptures  as  I  did,  always  with  the  one 
morbid  object,  it  was  impossible  that  I  should  not  come 
upon  the  one  crowning  terror — the  Unpardonable  Sin 
against  the  Holy  Ghost. 

How  dreadfully  that  idea  took  possession  of  me !  We 
never  know  how  much  of  hope  lurks  latent  within  our 
souls  until  precipitated  into  a  deeper  abyss  of  despair ;  I, 
presupposing  myself  lost  eternally,  was  yet  in  mortal 
dread  of  committing  this  sin.  What  was  it  ?  how  could 
it  be  committed  ?  With  these  thoughts  came  the  inevita- 
ble sequel,  the  fascination  presented  by  the  precipice 


a  boy's  theological  experiences.  317 

which  you  look  from  and  involuntarily  long  to  plunge 
down. 

I,  a  boy  of  twelve,  have  gone  about  in  agony  with  cer- 
tain words  in  my  mind — words  which  will  probably  rise 
now  in  the  reader's — which,  pronounced,  would,  I 
thought,  have  constituted  the  sin  in  question.  I  have 
stuffed  my  handkerchief  into  my  mouth  to  prevent  my 
saying  them,  bit  my  tongue,  struck  my  head  violently 
with  my  fists,  to  divert  the  current  of  ideas  from  that  one 
dreadful  subject,  through  the  medium  of  physical  pain. 
Then  I  thought  that  as  sin  lay  in  intention,  not  in  act,  I 
had  committed  it,  that  these  fancies  were  a  proof  of  it, 
that  it  was  no  use  crying  or  praying  any  longer,  for  I  did 
both,  fitfully  and  wretchedly. 

I  wondered,  too,  at  what  precise  moment  it  had  occur- 
red, and  what  people  would  say  if  they  knew,  as  I  passed 
them  in  the  street,  that  there  was  a  boy  who  had  com- 
mitted the  Unpardonable  Sin.  I  fancied  them  shrinking 
from  me  in  horror.  It  appeared  to  me  that  the  same 
visible  sign,  some  convulsion  of  nature,  should  have  an- 
nounced the  fact  to  me.  How  long  the  nights  appeared 
and  how  I  Wanted  to  tell  my  brother,  but  refrained, 
thinking  he  would  be  afraid  of  me.  Words  are  but  poor 
things  at  best  to  describe  mental  torture,  but  Tertullian 
himself,  who  longed  to  look  on  and  see  the  enemies  of 
his  faith  "burning  and  liquefying"  in  hell-fire,  might 
have  pitied  me.  Shall  I  go  on  ?  No ;  I  have  written 
enough  on  what  has  long  ceased  to  be  a  painful  subject 
to  me.  Time  and  a  naturally  healthy  nature  enabled  me 
to  get  the  better  of  all  such  horrors  as  I  have  related, 
not,  however,  without  occasional  relapses.  I  disentomb 
them  now  for  the  moral  they  teach.  What  that  is,  the 
reader  may  judge  for  himself. 


AN  ARTIST'S   REVERIE -NO.   IV. 


"  Spirits  are  not  finely  touched,  but  to  fine  issues." 

It  is  now  an  hour  or  so  past  midnight — the  storm  has 
died  completely  away — clouds  drive  through  the  heav- 
ens— the  stars  step  up — and  streams  of  the  silvery  moon- 
light pour  into  the  work-chamber. 

How  niches  fret  with  silver  touchings  ;  and  so  do 
other  forms  on  forms — touchings  so  tremulous  ;  so  spec- 
tral— ha7f  flying  cloud,  half  moon  ! 

That  satyr's  head,  that  frowned  five  hundred  years  ago 
in  Melrose  church,  now  leers  and  jibbers.  This — from  a 
tomb  at  Canterbury — (helmed  and  with  visor  up,)  seems 
livingly  sedate  and  grim ! 

The  fragments  on  the  walls  are  shadowy  and  indis- 
tinct, and  faintly  move  within  their  places — the  counte- 
nances of  angels  shift  from  the  smile  to  the  frown  :  the 
death-face  of  Scott  strives  to  lift  the  lids  and  stir  the 
lips  ;  whilst  the  horse's  head,  from  the  Parthenonic  frieze, 
is  quite  alive,  and  just  about  to  prance ! 

The  tremulous  silvery  light  salutes  the  lion  and  the 
lamb — the  monk,  the  clown,  the  saint,  the  concubine — 
and,  on  the  Gorgon's  brain-shell,  keeps  serpents  after 
serpents  in  never-resting  coil.  Shades  start  o'er  shades 
— a  host  of  witchery ! 

And  now,  the  artist,  in  his  vision,  and  by  the  duality 
of  bodily  and  mental  torpor,  and  bodily  and  mental  ac- 


an  artist's  reverie.     m  319 

tion,  arose  from  liis  lounging  posture,  and,  in  the  silvery 
moonlight,  modelled  away  at  the  lady's  bust ;  and  altho' 
until  then,  it  had  seemed  as  it  should  seem,  yet  now,  he 
finds  fault  after  fault,  the  faults  of  the  moon !  And  he 
strove  and  strove  to  give  the  eyes  more  effulgence,  and 
the  lips  more  of  a  dancing  delight !  but,  alas,  the  more 
he  toiled,  the  more  the  lady  grew  like  an  image  from 
ancient  Mexico,  or  Thebes  !  Now  he  strives  to  refresh 
his  sight — his  judgment — his  artistic  strength — but 
quickly  toils  on  and  on,  until,  amidst  frowns,  regrets,  and 
curses,  he  dashes  the  stubborn  and  offending  image  into 
ruin  ;  then  buries  his  face  within  his  hands,  and  seems 
himself  a  frozen  model  of  Despair  and  Grief — as  he  sees, 
by  the  brain's  fire-light,  long,  long  lines  of  phantoms — of 
creations  now  dead  and  buried/orerer  and  ever,  except 
in  the  land  of  dreams ! 

*  See  how  the  unearthly  shapes  flit  by,  and  spring  into 
their  everlasting  graves — mistress,  and  Mend — statues, 
gems,  and  paintings — sympathetic  touches  from  foreign 
climes  and  youthful  days — friendly  voices,  friendly  clasps, 
and  friendly  sympathies — and  the  air  trembled  with 
pleasant  chats,  and  musical  notes,  and  mimicry,  and  - 
jests,  and  the  jingling  kiss  of  the  wine-cups — and  then 
passed  countenances  of  goodness,  countenances  of  the 
magnificent  mind,  countenances  cherubic,  and  those  of  a 
brilliant  beauty  of  shape  and  color,  and  a  radiance  of  spir- 
it infinitely  excelling  that  of  the  sunsets  most  beloved  by 
Claude  Lorraine — and  touches  of  the  dance,  by  a  lithe 
and  sweet-faced  woman,  with  large  black  e\es,  and  lashes 
that  swept  with  a  startling  grace  and  witchery  upon  the 
marble  face,  the  raven's  feather  on  afield  of  snow  !  Now, 
in  transparent  drapery,  she  "  leaps  as  a  hart  in  the  des- 
ert " — now  floats  with  the  rarest  skill  and  abandon — some- 
times scarcely  stirring  the  air,  and  sometimes  cutting  it 
14* 


320  an  artist's  reverie. 

like  lightning  with  the  staccato  music  of  her  feet !  Now, 
she  rests,  and  sleeps,  and  brightly  dreams — and  starts, 
half  rises,  hesitates — and  whilst  the  traces  of  joy  and 
gladness  still  linger,  and  the  upraised  arm  and  pointed 
finger  quicken  the  scarcely  awakened  brain,  she  falter- 
ingly  exclaims  :  "'Tis  but  a  dream  !" 

Here  pass  the  early  dead — poor  Bonnington  beneath 
the  Bridge  of  Sighs  !  and  such    ....     and  then  the 
visionary  stole  out  upon  the  housetop,  and  boldly  walked 
along  the  cornice  troughs — for  he  knew  not  what  he  did, 
and  the  Lord  God  was  his  unerring  guide — and  whilst 
himself  upon  destruction's  verge,  he  saw  the  awful,  unique, 
mystic,  and  world-wide  picture  of  the  Deluge  !  that  dread- 
ful tragedy  when  the.  Almighty  drowned  quadrillions 
of  joyous  things — man,  tree,  and  flower — and   changed 
the  earth's  romantic  face  for  a  mere  undivided,  bayless, 
lakeless,  sheet  of  water  ;  on  the  bosom  of  which  rode  but 
a  solitary  vessel ;  with  a  strange  sort  of  captain,  crew, 
and  passengers !    on  a  voyage  so  strange — and  the  delu- 
gic   captain  led  his   craft  so  strangely — not   a  compass ! 
not  a  chart !  and  neither  oar,  nor  sail,  nor  steam !  with  a 
mountain  cap  for  haven!  pilots?  a  raven  and  a  dove!  a 
quarter  deck,  but  trod  by  strangers !  flying  strangers — 
the  pigeon  and  the  eagle  !     .     .     . 

On  moves  the  Ark,  month  after  month,  helmless  and 
Zimmermannic !  Its  band  of  music  ;  such  a  band  ;  play- 
ing a  requiem  !  such  a  requiem !  ...  it  frightens  off 
the  neighboring  tenants  of  the  deep  ;  what  Babel  sounds 
escape  its  huge  bulk  and  float  over  the  desert  of  waters, 
as  incense  and  as  praise  !  Hark !  to  the  flute-like  notes 
of  a  woman's  voice,  as  it  chants  for  the  Almighty  to  set 
free  the  captive  and  let  them  once  more  see  the  glad 
earth. 

O  Human  Voice,  thou  broad  creation  !  thou  fall  of  cat- 


AN  ARTISTS   REVERIE.  321 

aract  and  dew — moan  of  the  ocean — gurgle  of  the  rill — kiss 
to  the  leper — perfume  for  the  throne!  How  it  merrily 
dances — laughingly  leaps — tenderly  pleads — skips  and 
weeps — echoes  the  hunter's  horn  and  shepherd's  pipe — 
flutters  as  first  and  last  breath  of  life  and  love — and  chimes 
in  with  the  Christ-like  music  of  the  heart ! 

Oh  Human  Voice,  thou  magic  mirror  of  the  memory ! 
thou  witch  of  Avon  and  of  Calvary!  Eternally  thy 
echoings  flit  from  flower  to  flower  :  from  Eden  into  Hell : 
from  infant  to  the  Great  "White  Throne !  I  hear  voices 
from  the  grave  :  voices  from  the  rack  and  Catherine- 
wheel  :  voices  from  grandest  brain  artillery!  The  gill 
of  death-dust  whispers  round  my  night  couch,  and  comes 
and  goes  with  my  heart's  bride — and  ancient  battling 
hosts  will  laugh  and  shriek  at  times — and  maniacs  speak 
of  brainal  treachery !  Ah !  sweet  Ophelia — silly  thing, 
with  spears  of  straw  for  head-dress  ;  and  fragile  tree- 
bough  as  thy  favorite  seat,  that  hung  o'er  the  river's  rap- 
ids— how  thy  mad  music  flies  from  Avon's  side  to  mine ! 
So  like  our  crazy  Jane's — the  talking  to  one's  self — long 
stops  of  silence — rush  of  medley  song — and  gush  of 
dreamy  joy — and  brush  through  troops  of  youthful  gaz- 
ers and  eyelids  big  with  tears  divine.  Are  not  Compas- 
sion's cheeks  just  like  sweet  flowers  still-ringing  voice 
of  Wrong's  Eedeemer  ?  and  now  the  brazen  roar  of  the 
lion  for  its  proper  lair  and  prey — the  beggarly  croak  of 
the  frog  for  its  poorest  bed  of  slime — and  the  soft,  pierc-r 
ing,  liquid,  and  enchantingly  delicious  pipe  of  the  night- 
ingale, mourning  its  absence  from  the  thickets,  its  spring 
from  bough  to  bough,  and  visits  to  fresh  flowers  to  in- 
inspire  its  song !     The  ark  moves  onward. 

Music  floats  off  the  waters  ;  music  for  joy  and  grief ; 
very  merry  ;  very  solemn !  Heaven  deluges  a  world  and 
builds  a  grand  museum  !  vast  is  the  artist's  power;  he  wills, 


322  an  artist's  reverie, 

and  the  giant  statue  steps  from  out  the  rock  ;  whilst  beds 
of  clay  spring  into  Babel  towers  ;  Kome's  mighty  arches  ; 
and  portraits  (endless  portraits)  of  the  Homers,  Solons, 
Ciceros,  and  such.  The  Ark  saves  Shakspeare  ;  Shak- 
speare, Banquo's  ghost !  Some  miser  saves  old  Nineveh, 
(as  throned  by  Sardanapalus, )  and  we  then  save  its  mate, 
in  Layard,  curious  Layard ! 

Chaos  !  vast  chaos !  to  the  mortal  brain  and  hand  and 
heart ;  when  will  thy  round  of  mystery  withdraw  its 
veil — from  floods  and  Chinese  feet !  and  artificial  flow- 
ers ;  and  pasteboard  crowns  ;  and  lofty  spires  with  lillipu- 
tian  bodies — and  juggerly  done  o'er  the  Saviour's  cruci- 
fixional  wounds,  and  holy  shirt,  and  mother's  picture! 
How  proudly  now  looms  Calvary  the  True  !  Centurions 
ride  so  openly  to  use  the  spear!  and  thieves  stand  up 
like  thieves !  and  but  the  bodies  of  the  victims  perish ! 
whilst  counterfeits  but  skulk  behind  the  pillars  of  the 
Church,  and  strike  the  poor,  benighted  minds  of  multi- 
tudes !  How  oft,  John  Milton,  I  do  sit  with  thee,  (thou 
noble  student  of  Creation  and  Creation's  Will, )  and  yet, 
like  thee,  am  blind  ! 

Boundless  doth  seem  the  maze  we  tread — its  tracts,  its 
symbols,  and  fantastic  ceremonies !  Its  needless  works, 
ridiculous  works,  unrighteous  and  unhealthful  works! 
Fast  fall  the  leaflets  thro'  the  rottening  trunk  !  At  everv  step 
we  meet  impostors  that  insult  our  reasoning  faculties  by 
the  grave  assurance  that  they  are  Christ's  deputies  to 
bring  us  into  the  only  narroiu  way  that  leads  to  and  into 
the  Gates  of  Paradise,  and  up  to  the  spotless  and  eternal 
presence  of  the  Kings  of  Kings  ! 

Antiquated !  antiquated !  is  the  present  throne  of  Man. 
Caverns  have  been  dug  therein,  exposing  columns  of 
stone,  found  just  like  giant  trees  with  vines  bound  round 
them,  and  branches  spreading  to  a  banyan  breadth !  and 


an  artist's  reverie.  323 

noble  gothic  arches,  basket  groinings  and  pendants, 
and  flying  buttresses,  and  charmingly  carved  capitals, 
done  by  the  branch  or  ti*unk  and  the  entwisting  leaves. 
Hah  !  what  divinely  sculptured  foliage.  And  these  cav- 
erns were  once  guarded  by  monster  sentinels,  and  owned 
by  monster  lords  :  for  there  yet  stand  therein,  colossal 
shapes  of  serpents  and  wolves,  birds,  dragons,  and  fish, 
all  strange  to  the  present  time  ;  and  the  impressions  of 
lizards'  coats,  tree  barks,  and  birds'  beaks  and  talons, 
are  still  as  sharp  as  the  arisses  of  a  finely  wrought  gem  : 
The  Lord  God,  as  well  as  Charlemagne,  builds  the 
palace  underground !  and  often  scoops  the  tomb  of  a 
wild  Indian  or  his  dog,  far  more  magnificently  than  we 
for  the  Emperor — tombs  of  immense  range,  and  with  the 
never-fainting  music  of  the  water-drops  tumbling  in 
stormless  lakes.  What  ceilings  have  these  tombs — these 
grandest  mausoleums  !  See  the  thousand  flying  arches ! 
how  varied ;  how  harmonious !  and  all  incrusted  with 
forests  of  stalactites  and  skillfully  entwisted  spiracles ! 
"What  crypts  and  canopies  ;  and  aisles  and  altars  ;  fonts 
and  spandrils !  What  wreathed  columnar  work  ;  and 
stalks  and  dripstones  ;  and  paneling  so  like  the  Persian ! 
Eccentric  is  the  round  of  life.  One  lovely  child  dies  out 
shark-broken  and  shark-eaten  ;  whilst  another  departs 
as  gently  as  the  unravished  flower,  and  to  be  (as  in  kingly 
families,  in  oriental  lands,)  carefully  laid  away  in  a  sar- 
cophagus costing  thousands,  in  a  mausoleum  costing  mil- 
lions ;  the  coffin,  of  fairest  marble,  being  wreathed  and 
overwreathed  with  flowers,  that  only  breathe  and  dance 
and  bloom  unnaturally  !  Whilst  the  tressels,  of  ebony, 
are  ablaze  with  their  jeweled  inlay  :  censers,  of  silver, 
are  ever  lit  and  swung  ;  and  the  great  carved  hatchments 
glow  with  the  pride  of  ancestry  for  the  mere  accident  of 
fathering  the  atom  of  dust  within. 


324  an  artist's  eeveeee. 

Why,  reader,  I've  often  seen  human  faces  and  hearts 
and  consciences  turned  into  stone — and  borne  about  as 
trophies  of  Earth,  and  trophies  of  Heaven,  and  trophies 
of  Hell !  the  stony  look,  the  stony  laugh,  the  stony  will,  the 
stony  faith,  the  stony  gait — and  epitaphs  nothing  but  stone  ! 
stone  tongues  and  stone  lies — stone  banners  and  stone  warriors 
— and  stone  wives,  children,  saints,  shields,  swords,  and  lace 
— and  a  vast,  vast  sum  of  stony  language — and  stone  images 
that  laugh  at  Death,  by  proxy,  and  weep  like  paid  weepers, 
and  plumes  that  nod  from  the  hearse  top  ! 

There  is  a  duality  in  all  things — of  the  passions,  thoughts, 
will,  and  action.  So  God  creates  what  man  destroys, 
and  man  creates  what  God  destroys  ;  and  the  dualitic 
play  is  so  vast,  so  complicate,  that  it  is  not  wonderful 
that  both  parties  often  falter  in  the  race  of  creation  and  of 
life,  and  run  shock  against  the  statue  and  the  thousand- 
rooted  tree  ;  burst  the  heart's  bands  ;  and  rock  the  brain 
into  an  artificial  or  death-like  sleep !  The  sage  needs 
this  rocking  as  well  as  the  infant :  the  heavens  as  well  as 
the  earth  :  the  spirit  as  well  as  the  body ! 

Man  often  shifts  his  glass  eccentrically  ;  he  builds  up 
a  family  and  social  throne,  simply  to  see  them  tarnish 
and  crumble — the  wife,  the  child,  and  friend,  to  bloom 
and  wither,  (physically,  mentally,  or  morally,)  and  van- 
ish away  in  their  graves  crowded  with  ugly  phantoms ! 
Man  retails  misery  and  joy  ;  God  wholesales  them.  The 
best  joys  of  man  are  ephemeral,  and  cost  much  close 
watching.  There  is  no  earthly  love  perfectly  pure,  save 
that  of  a  mother  for  her  child,  that  most  brilliant  spot  on 
the  mortal  brow !  Sexual  love  is  selfish.  Patriotism  is 
selfish.  Fashionable  Christianity  is  monstrously  selfish:, 
and  many  a  richly-habited  priest  is  Satan  in  mask,  and 
the  archest  of  all  hypocrites !  Mortal  bliss  too  often  flour- 
ishes from    out  the  blackest  pools — the  pools    of  folly, 


an  abtist's  reverie.  325 

crime,  and  treachery.  Simplicity  and  Trnth  are  too  un- 
spicy  for  the  debauchee !  "When  Ambition  seeks  victory, 
Victory  seems  a  heaven  ;  but  Victory  won,  instantly  fades 
into  nothing,  just  like  the  finger-touched  clouds!  By 
itself,  what  is  the  columnar  plynth  ?  but  join  it  to  its 
shaft  and  cap,  and  then  the  trio  from  the  noble  harp  in 
tune. 

Suddenly,  yet  slowly,  the  Almighty  threw  into  ruin 
the  Earth's  objects  of  Nature  and  Art,  expanded  by  two 
thousand  years  ;  the  blade  of  grass  perishing  with  the 
royal  bride,  the  babe  with  grandsire !  Mourn  we  may, 
but  the  aim  of  the  mighty  and  terrific  execution  buries 
itself  away  in  the  Sealed  Book.  Picture  after  picture  we 
may  paint — pictures  of  the  plague  ;  and  starving  city, 
with  triumphal  entry  by  the  rosy  conqueror — but  the 
Great  Birth  Giver  of  these  grandest  subjects  ?  How  he 
veils  himself  away  in  the  exquisite  brightness  of  the  di- 
vine glory !  "Wonder  we  may  :  as  men  make  horses  un- 
limb  men ;  and  Herods  war  with  infants  ;  and  Austria, 
in  her  market-place,  unclothes  a  noble  woman,  and  lacer- 
ates her  inoffensive,  heaven-stamped  form !  Yet  wonder 
more,  when  worlds  get  wrecked,  and  have  to  act  as  chief 
Laocoon ! 

So  the  higher  we  fly  the  more  we  flare — whilst  Vernet, 
with  philosophy,  takes  laurel  after  laurel,  as  soldier  sa- 
bers soldier — and  Rubens,  as  he  keeps  afresh  the  ugly, 
rankling  spike-thrusts  in  the  Saviour's  feet !  And  so  with 
heads  struck  off  fair  women  and  brave  men — the  Neys — 
and  Lady  Grays,  those  wildest  of  Morning  Glories,  folding 
their  leaves  at  noon  ! 

Thus  painter's  pencil's  fed  ;  and  bowls  of  anguish 
shift  to  cups  of  nectar  ;  and  blackest  soil  yields  bright- 
est flowers !  Delight,  and  Art,  and  Awe,  and  Terror,  and 
the  grimmest  Agony,  all  join  like  sisters !     The  skirm- 


326  an  aetist's  beveeee. 

ishing  of  the  clouds,  and  their  mightiest  shock  and  roar 
of  artillery,  and  swift-winged,  silver  lightning  strikes  the 
temple  and  the  infant ;  all  join  (like  angels)  with  their 
God-thrown  Signet  Arch,  and  smallest  blade  of  grass 
bending  beneath  its  crystal  diadem — an  Atlas  shoulder- 
ing his  Globe! 

The  statuary's  works  are  a  part  of  the  statuary  ;  the 
chemist's  the  chemist  :  and  God  is  just  as  inseparable 
from  his  own  handiwork !  The  lion  is  God,  and  God  is 
the  lion  !  All  works  (heavenly  and  earthly)  have  their 
dross.  "  There  is  no  heaven  without  a  cloud."  The 
grandest  aim  of  Man  is  the  elevation  of  the  standard  of  his 
race,  physically  and  intellectually.  Court  gladness,  and 
shun  grief.  Never  fret  over  the  errors  of  the  past,  but 
regard  them  simply  as  the  dross  of  life,  and  monitors  of 
the  future.  The  grossest  abusers  of  life  are  the  voluntary 
penance  doers.  Truth,  charity  and  sincerity  are  divine 
characteristics ;  cleanliness  and  sobriety,  cardinal  vir- 
tues. Man  (individual)  is  a  trifling  thread,  yet  inter- 
woven interminably  throughout  all  creation's  woof — an 
imperishable  jewel  in  a  perishable  casket,  to  be  shifted  and 
shifted  as  casket  after  casket  perishes,  yet  eternally  form- 
ing a  ray  in  the  glory  of  Heaven  !  No  mother's  love,  nor 
daring  sympathy,  nor  wonderful  abnegation  of  self  can 
die — they  are  utterly  imperishable,  and  radiative  thro'  an 
infinity  of  space  and  time.  The  casket  perishes,  not  the 
jewel — and  when  such  casket  is  unworthy  of  its  contents, 
the  separation  is  just  and  should  be  gladly  met ;  and  the 
merits  of  such  mother's  love  and  sympathy  should  be 
pleasurably  relinquished  from  our  own  narrow  protection 
unto  that  as  broad,  pure,  brilliant  and  never  fading  as  is 
Jehovah's !    *     *     *    * 


THE   CRUCIFIXION    OF   CHILDREN. 


CRUCIFIXION  OF  CHILDREN  BY  THE  ROUTINE  SYSTEM  OF  EDUCATION— THE 
NATURAL  CAPACITY  CAN  ONLY  BE  KNOWN  BY  THE  STUDY  OF  THE  TEMPERA- 
MENT—EVIL  EFFECT  OF  CRUSHING  THE  WILL— THE  SENTIMENT  OF  OMNIPO- 
TENCE—WILL MAKES  THE  MAN. 

The  reactive  life-force  is  variously  designated,  whether 
in  a  spirit  of  recognition  or  condemnation,  as  self-poise 
and  self-will,  combativeness  and  contrariness,  firmness  and 
dbstinancy,  etc. 

Personality  may  be  accepted  as  a  more  integral  defini- 
tion than  the  preceding  terms,  which  only  apply  to  some 
particular  manifestation  of  it.  Without  much  ratiocina- 
tion, sagacious  managers  instinctively  appreciate  and 
avail  themselves  of  the  laws  inherent  to  passional  forces. 
They  often  ensure  the  conduct  which  they  desire  by  sug- 
gesting its  opposite.  They  play  a  game  of  passional 
billiards,  and  calculate  the  composition  of  forces,  respect- 
ing the  will  of  another,  as  an  elastic  body  on  which  the 
impact  of  their  own  will,  if  direct,  can  act  only  as  an  ex- 
ternal disturbing  force  to  be  repelled,  on  the  principle 
that  reaction  is  the  echo  of  action,  and  the  angle  of 
reflection  to  the  angle  of  incidence.  Thus  I  have  recalled 
smiles  to  the  cheeks  of  my  little  favorite  Emma  when  on 
a  stormy  day  it  also  stormed  within  her  sympathetic 
organism,  for  she  and  the  elements  were  play-fellows. 

But  when,  unheeding  her  mamma's  remonstrance,  I 
took  her  to  the  outside  door,  and  opening,  launched  her 


328  BESULT   OF  CRUSHING    THE  WILL. 

forth  into  the  flood  descending,  then  she  presently  per- 
ceived that  she  was  not  quite  a  little  duck,  and  came  in 
surprised  but  calmed,  and  cured  of  inconvenient  ele- 
mental sympathies  for  the  rest  of  that  day  at  least. 

There  is  a  radical  falsity  in  all  systems  of  education, 
whether  intellectual  or  moral,  based  on  the  blind  and 
forced  obedience  of  child  or  pupil  to  the  mandate  of  an- 
other will — relatively  an  external  and  disturbing  force. 
The  working  of  such  system,  in  proportion  as  it  really 
takes  effect  upon  the  life  of  its  subject  is,  first,  to  paralyze 
the  volitional  principle,  as  in  case  of  the  phenomenon 
called  psychologizing,  biologizing  or  hypnotism,  and  to 
which  the  Jesuits  have  given  an  enormous  extension  in 
the  discipline  of  their  order,  (see  Wandering  Jew,  case  of 
Hardy. ) 

In  other  cases,  and  indeed  often  combinedly  with  this 
passivity,  we  find  an  alternate  evolution  of  hypocrisy, 
perfidy,  mean  selfishness  or  tyranny  over  inferiors  in 
those  thus  educated,  as  a  perverted  and  incomplete  vital 
reaction  from  a  long  experience  of  constraint  and  fear. 

Education  in  the  despotic  order,  means  the  subjugation 
of  individual  wills  and  faculties  in  unquestioning  sub- 
mission to  the  established  authority,  which  always  pre- 
tends to  be  of  divine  origin.  The  aim  of  such  education 
is  to  make  of  the  people  passive  tools,  a  flock  to  be 
fleeced  ;  burden-bearing  animals  in  the  service  of  a  privi- 
leged aristocracy,  clerical  and  secular.  It  is  the  cele- 
brated Vos  non  vobis  of  Virgil. 

Ye  birds,  not  for  yourselves  built  nests ; 
Ye  oxen,  not  for  yourselves  plough  furrows ; 
Ye  sheep,  not  for  yourselves  bear  fleeces." 

The  Roman  Catholic  Church  makes  vital  to  the  salva- 
tion of  the  souls  of  their  proselytes,  the  "  abnegation  of 


NATURAL  ATTRACTIONS  DEMAND  ATTENTION.        329 

judgment ;"   she  requires  the  blind  acknowledgment  of 
her  creed.     In  her  discipline  it  is  of  the  first  necessity  to 
suppress  free  thought,  to  extinguish  originality,  to  emas- 
culate passion,  to  make  machine  men  and  women  by  the 
crushing  and  drilling  of  Routine.     Routine  is  the  key- 
note, the  watch-word,  the  magic  spell  of   slave-making 
and  slave-ruling  societies.     The  philosophical  formula  of 
this  popular  education,  is  the  subordination  of  the  me  to 
the  not  me;   of  personality  to   authority,  of  reason  to 
faith,  of  sentiment  to  interest,  of  volition  to  habit.     Its 
mainspring  is  constraint,  alike   physical  and  moral,  its 
vis  a  tergo  is  the  lash,  its  last  recourse  punishment ;  it3 
sentiment  is  fear,  its  result  passive  obedience.     No  free 
gymnasia  for  such  a  people  ;  let  its  shoulders  be  rounded 
under  the  burdens  of  repugnant  toil ;  no  free  and  daring 
evolution  of  the  intellectual  faculties  ;  let  them  passively 
receive  the  authority  of  the  past ;  paralyze  them  by  in- 
action or  stultify  them  with  compulsory  tasks  ;  let  mem- 
ory alone  survive  ;  fill  it  with  dead  knowledge,  with  the 
musty  trash  of  schoolmen,  with  solemn  inanities   that 
time  has  consecrated  ;  so  that  the  useless  man  of  learning 
may  be  a  byword  and  a  reproach  among  the  people, 
and  their  ambition  be  deterred  from  ever  arousing  the 
Hon  that  crouches  on  the  threshold  of  eternal  Truth.     As 
to  the  spiritual  passions,  modern  morality  and  religion 
will  take  care  of  them,  and  that  so  effectually  that  they 
shall  be  ashamed  of  their  own  names,  and  promiscously 
confounded  with  the  morbid  emotions,  such  as  anger, 
envy,  hatred,  fear,  lust,  or  cupidity,  provoked  by  their 
compression  or  perversion. 

Divine  in  their  essence,  they  shall  become  infernal  in 
their  manifestation.  No  man  shall  dare  to  confess  them, 
the  very  words  passion  and  passional  shall  excite  a  hue 
and  cry,  and  hypocrisy  shall  reign  supreme  under  the 


330        NATURAL  ATTRACTIONS  DEMAND  ATTENTION. 

segis  of  morality.  If  it  be  true  that  possession  is  nine 
points  of  the  law,  then  has  despotic  education  an  im- 
mense advantage  over  free  and  liberal  education  ;  for  the 
first  exists,  while  the  second  is  for  us  as  yet  a  theoretic 
abstraction,  preexisting  only  in  the  aspirations  and  intui- 
tions of  the  child,  the  lover,  the  mother,  and  the  true 
philanthropist.  While  constraint  is  organized  and  sus- 
tained by  the  force  of  habit,  of  numbers,  of  clerical  and 
secular  interests  ;  attractional  and  instinctive  develop- 
ment is  but  the  happy  accident  of  a  sparse  population  in 
fine  climates,  or  the  privilege  of  the  enlightened  great,  or 
the  voice  of  Jesus  in  converse  with  the  lily. 

The  constitution  of  our  republic  pretends  to  guarantee 
the  right  to  life,  liberty  and  the  pursuit  of  happiness,  to 
all  who  are  not  born  chattel  slaves. 

But  this  pretension  is  fallacious,  and  so  must  remain 
until  those  who  are  intrusted  with  the  education  of  our 
childhood  regard  it  as  their  chief  duty  to  discover  the 
industrial  vocations  and  aptitudes  of  young  people,  to 
provide  them  with  attractive  and  useful  occupations,  to 
second  with  delicate  zeal  the  development  of  each  genius, 
and  to  remove  those  barriers,  whether  accidental  or  arti- 
ficial, which  may  obstruct  personal  liberties.  Still  far- 
ther, it  is  necessary  to  enter  the  sphere  of  emotional  or 
social  life,  to  discover  and  appreciate  those  affinities  of 
character  and  action  which  make  the  charm  of  social  re- 
lations, and  to  promote  them  by  every  possible  means. 
As  yet,  we  are  far  from  enjoying  even  the  negative  liberty 
of  being  let  alone  or  left  to  our  own  resources.  Besides 
our  numerous  population  of  chattel  and  wages  slaves,  the 
whole  class  of  children  and  minors  is  liable  to  oppression, 
and  is  habitually  oppressed  by  their  parents,  teachers, 
and  elders.  It  is  not  meant  as  oppression,  but  as  a 
necessary  control.     It  is  so  to  a  certain  extent.     In  the 


THE  WOBLD  THE  BEST    SCHOOL-BOOM.  331 

absence  of  the  proper  material  arrangements  and  social 
stimuli,  children  cannot  be  allowed  to  dispose  of  their 
own  time,  or  to  do  what  they  please,  because  they  would 
not  find  the  motives  prompting  them  to  do  right,  but  on 
the  contrary,  would  pervert  to  mischief  and  destruction 
the  forces  intended  to  serve  in  the  useful  evolution  of 
their  faculties  and  passions.  It  remains  so  much  the 
more  indisputably  true,  that  the  whole  class  of  children 
and  minors  are  obstructed  in  the  exercise  of  their  liber- 
ties, that  their  personal  spontaneity  is  outraged  by  phy- 
sical and  moral  tyrannies,  and  that  each  step  of  their 
emancipation,  from  the  letting  out  of  school  at  noon  or 
evening,  to  the  final  epoch  of  their  majority,  is  anxiously 
looked  forward  to,  while  the  representatives  of  moral 
authority  are  generally  regarded  by  them  with  a  certain 
degree  of  odium. 

Is  it  indeed  a  small  thing  to  resign  one's  liberty  among 
the  woods  and  streams,  with  all.  the  fascinations  of  the 
gun,  the  fishing-rod,  the  sail-boat,  ball,  kite,  top,  hurly, 
and  athletic  games  ;  our  favorite  occupations  of  farm- 
work,  the  interesting  cares  of  the  barn-yard,  of  the  flower- 
garden,  of  the  orchard  ;  our  observations  on  the  natural 
history  of  birds,  squirrels,  rabbits,  and  other  wild  crea- 
tures, our  researches  on  the  physical  construction  of 
mills  and  mill-dams,  our  delight  in  the  first  handling  of 
tools  in  the  work-shop,  and  all  the  manifold  charms  of 
initiation  into  the  physical  sciences  and  useful  arts,  to 
which  Nature  powerfully  urges,  as  to  the  essential  pur- 
pose and  fruition  of  our  restless  and  curious  childhood  ? 

Is  it  a  small  thing  to  compress  the  bounding  spirit  of 
youth,  to  bury  life  under  books  at  the  epoch  of  its  most 
intense  and  exquisite  susceptibilities  for  active  enjoy- 
ment, in  the  liveliest  play  of  those  sympathies  with  Na- 
ture on  which  the  incarnation  of  the  soul  here  rests  ? 


332  THE  SCHOLASTIC  TBEAD-MILL. 

What  a  woeful  fall  from  the  elementary  lessons  of  the 
sunbeam  and  the  thunder-storm  to  stereotyped  text- 
books and  arbitrary  methods  invented  by  stupidity  for 
the  torture  of  mind,  confounding  all  aptitudes  under  a 
common  rule,  and  expecting  the  same  tasks  memorized 
in  the  same  way  by  every  child  in  the  class!  Is  it  a 
small  concession  to  apply  one's  self,  for  six  or  eight 
hours,  at  an  uncomfortable  desk,  with  a  hard  seat,  often 
too  high,  without  a  back,  and  perhaps  as  many  more 
hours  out  of  school,  to  abstract  lessons,  the  subjects  of 
which  are  foreign  to  our  personal  instincts,  and  which 
are  too  seldom  made  pleasing  either  by  the  manner  in 
which  they  are  taught,  or  by  our  love  for  those  who 
teach  them  ?  and  all  because  we  are  told  that  it  is  our 
duty,  and  that  we  shall  be  punished  if  we  neglect  them ! 

And  it  is  in  order  to  be  thus  crucified  in  their  bodies 
and  in  their  souls,  that  children  are  sent  avray  from  their 
homes  and  from  all  they  love  best,  to  be  kept  among 
strangers  at  a  boarding-school.  Yet  this  is  but  a  slight 
and  superficial  view  of  the  galling  fetters  with  which  we 
manacle  childhood.  Embittered  by  constraint,  mad- 
dened and  perverted  in  their  instinctive  life  by  this  in- 
cessant tyranny,  children  complete  among  themselves,  by 
quarrels  and  persecutions,  the  ruin  of  many  a  fair  and 
hopeful  spirit.  At  last  the  long-desired  epoch  of  major- 
ity arrives,  or  at  an  earlier  age  the  privilege  is  accorded 
of  choosing  our  own  course  of  life,  of  fighting  on  our 
own  hook.  Any  one  of  the  trades  or  professions,  from 
the  humblest  mechanical  art  up  to  the  highest  branches 
of  commerce  and  politics,  demands  of  the  youth  a  new 
apprenticeship,  and  now  it  becomes  necessary  for  him  to 
die  to  theoretical  abstractions  and  transcendental  morali- 
ties, in  order  to  be  born  again  into  "  the  business  world," 
into  the  world  of  facts. 


ABSURDITY  OF  ROUTINE  EDUCATION.  333 

How  has  the  education  of  the  schools  prepared  bim 
for  this  initiation  ?  Why,  just  at  that  period  when  his 
perceptive  organs  were  most  fresh,  active,  and  impressi- 
ble, when  nature  playfully  led  him  from  object  to  object, 
teaching  him  in  three  years  a  greater  number  of  new 
facts  than  the  hardened  brain  of  the  adult  can  acquire  in 
thirty  years,  while  he  was  thus  in  pure  amusement  laying 
the  foundations  of  practical  knowledge  broad  and  firm, 
and"  appreciating  the  qualities  of  persons  and  things 
around  him,  this  was  the  happy  moment  chosen  by  Edu- 
cation for  locking  Mm  up  in  the  school-room,  as  if  the 
more  effectually  to  prevent  the  exercise  of  his  observing 
faculties  ;  and  there  condemning  the  lower  and  first  de- 
veloped plane  of  perceptive  organs  overlying  the  orbits, 
to  inaction  ;  it  calls  on  Analysis  and  Comparison,  to  mas- 
ter ftie  subtle  abstractions  of  grammar,  and  exhausts  the 
memory  by  premature  fatigue  over  tasks  for  which  it  has 
failed,  nay,  it  has  not  even  aimed  to  inspire  the  slightest 
interest.  As  a  natural  consequence,  the  bright  original 
minds  which  cherish  the  sentiment  of  their  independence, 
are  disgusted,  shirk  their  tasks,  and  turn  towards  frivoli- 
ties and  mischief,  while  the  more  passive  and  obedient, 
with  those  who  have  by  organization  an  already  almost 
morbid  tendency  to  isolation  and  abstraction,  are  effectu- 
ally vitiated  by  a  system  which  cultivates  Greek  roots 
instead  of  elementary  science,  and  scans  Latin  verses 
instead  of  making  the  child  himself  a  poet  in  life  and 
action.  The  superior  plane  of  organs,  which  in  the 
natural  course  of  things  comes  into  full  vigor  and  activity 
only  at  a  later  period  when  the  observer  becomes  the 
combiner  and  mechanist,  having  been  deprived  of  that 
store  of  observations  and  practical  expedients  which  its 
operations  require,  is  necessarily  turned  aside  from  mat- 
ter and  practical  realities,  to  ideas  and  verbal  abstractions, 


334      WILL,  THE  STANDABD  OF  THE  MAN. 

and  thus  it  is  clear  why  discoverers  and  great  mechanists 
are  almost  entirely  men  of  the  people,  who  have  received 
little  school  education,  while  we  so  seldom  see  the  dis- 
tinguished graduates  of  our  colleges  ever  become  distin- 
guished in  the  sphere  of  practical  life. 

But  were  the  acquisitions  in  real  and  useful  knowledge 
which  are  made  in  our  schools  as  great  and  valuable  as 
they  are  actually  trivial,  in  consideration  of  the  time  and 
labor  bestowed,  still  they  would  poorly  compensate  for 
that  original  force  which  is  paralyzed  as  soon  as  the 
method  of  another  mind  is  arbitrarily  imposed  upon  our 
own.  The  unknown  is  greater  and  more  important  than 
the  known  ;  hence  the  genius  for  original  discovery  is 
more  important  than  a  stereotyped  familiarity  with  that 
knowledge  which  is  already  common  property. 

Will,  more  than  aught  else,  makes  the  man  ;  its  potency 
gives  the  measure  of  his  manhood,  and  attests  his  affnity 
to  the  order  of  spiritual  powers.  What  then  is  to  be 
said  of  a  system  whose  primary  maxim  and  effort  is  to 
crush  the  will  of  its  pupil,  and  to  subject  it  implicitly 
and  unquestioningly  to  the  will  of  the  master  ?  What  is 
this  but  to  cripple  the  evolution  of  the  soul  which  asks 
only  to  justify  its  divine  paternity  in  each  individual 
child? 

Among  the  many  ill  effects  of  accustoming  the  mind  to 
surrender  itself  passively  to  the  rules  of  an  effete  and 
antiquated  system  of  education,  of  crushing  the  present 
under  the  burden  of  the  past,  and  accustoming  the  soul 
to  look  backward  for  its  guidance,  is  that  of  intellectual 
and  moral  cowardice.  Men  educated  in  the  schools  dare 
not  reason  for  themselves,  nor  exert  their  powers  of  dis- 
covery in  new  spheres.  Yet  the  analytic  faculty  and  that 
of  discovery  are  the  most  valuable  of  all. 

Every  attainment  of  the  past  ought  to  be  made  the 


THE  SENTIMENT  OE  OMNIPOTENCE.  335 

subject  of  a  discipline  to  the  faculty  of  discovery  in  those 
who  learn  it.  Dr.  Wells's  researches  on  Dew,  for  instance 
lend  themselves  admirably  to  such  a  discipline.  Under 
the  guidance  of  a  judicious  teacher,  his  experiments  may 
be  repeated,  and  the  pupil's  mind  led  along  the  whole 
train  of  discovery  as  far  as  science  has  yet  reached,  when 
it  will  be  prepared,  by  a  logical  habit  of  thought  and  the 
confidence  it  has  acquired  in  itself,  to  proceed  and  ad- 
vance the  conquests  of  science  into  unknown  spheres. 
The  laws  of  gravity,  the  sphericity  of  the  earth,  all  the 
prominent  phenomena  of  science  may  be  easily  re-dis- 
covered by  a  child,  with  a  little  skillful  guidance  from 
the  teacher.  An  immense  source  of  pleasure  in  education 
would  thus  be  developed. 

No  features  of  a  true  education  is  more  striking  than 
its  culture  of  the  sentiment  of  Omnipotence !  This 
Nature  bestows  in  full  measure  on  the  young  child, 
whose  prophetic  soul  has  no  hesitation  in  claiming  what- 
ever attracts  him,  be  it  the  moon,  a  butterfly,  a  dagger, 
or  his  father's  nose  ;  no  apprehension  of  any  limit  to  his 
possessions  or  to  his  authority  over  nature  and  society. 
His  cries  subdue  father  and  mother  and  all  the  family  to 
do  his  will,  more  effectually  than  any  government  has 
ever  enforced  its  dictates  upon  the  people. 

This  universality  of  desire,  tending  to  integral  explora- 
tion and  conquest,  distinguishes  man  from  other  animals 
more  remarkably  even  than  the  fact  that  he  is  a  feather- 
less  biped  that  uses  tools  and  fire,  drinks  whisky  and 
smokes  tobacco. 

The  desires  of  animals  are  evidently  limited  to  a  small 
class  of  objects  within  the  particular  sphere  of  each. 
These  attained,  they  are  contented  and  make  no  progress 
or  change.  This  seems  to  be  true  even  of  the  bee 
and  the  ant,  which  show  in  their  works,  in  some  re- 
15 


336  HOW  TO  DIRECT  THE  WILL. 

spects,  a  hundred  times  more  wisdom  than  man  has  yet 
done. 

The  sentiment  of  omnipotence  needs  to  be  gently  mod- 
ified by  a  culture  which,  from  early  childhood,  shall  art- 
fully substitute  the  obedience  of  things  for  that  of 
persons,  and  teach  the  means  of  obtaining  this  obedience 
by  our  sciences  and  arts.  The  intellect,  working  through 
natural  laws,  thus  gradually  realizes  conquests  quite  as 
remarkable  as  those  ascribed  in  the  history  of  miracles 
to  the  simple  command  of  the  ancient  prophets.  The 
germinal  instinct  of  power,  thus  developed  by  a  practical 
education,  ripens  into  self-reliant  energy,  and  gives  im- 
mense and  magnificent  results  by  the  originality  of 
thought  and  the  intensity  of  will.  But  how  shall  we  curb 
this  will  or  direct  it  into  its  proper  channel  of  action  ? 
The  adaptations  of  a  well-ordered  nursery  exclude  from 
the  notice  of  children  whatever  it  would  be  dangerous  or 
improper  to  trust  them  with,  while  they  amply  satisfy  the 
sensuous  and  social  wants  by  a  special  providence,  up  to 
the  point  at  which  the  faculties  of  the  child  are  suffi- 
ciently developed  to  become  the  successful  ministers  of 
his  own  will.  Then  amid  the  new,  and  to  him  gorgeous 
charms  of  the  miniature  work-shops  and  apparatus  for 
arts  and  culture,  his  curiosity  is  awakened  and  he  is 
amused  by  procedures  which  presently,  in  imitation  of 
children  a  little  older  than  himself,  he  employs  to  obtain 
what  he  seeks — here  is  the  great  safety-valve,  the  target 
against  which  he  may  shoot  at  will. 

From  the  hour  when  a  child  mechanizes,  the  desired 
transition  is  effected.  Then  gradually,  by  a  kind  of  sec- 
ond weaning,  the  personal  obedience  and  aid  of  adults  is 
withdrawn,  and  tools  substituted,  with  instruction  in 
their  use.  This  throws  him  on  his  own  resources,  and 
leads  him  to  extend  the  whole  vehemence  of  that  volition 


THE   WORKSHOP  A  POWERFUL  ADJUNCT.  337 

with  which  he  has  hitherto  controlled  parents  and 
nurses,  upon  the  matter  on  which  he  works,  and  in  the 
studies  by  which  he  learns  to  operate  successfully.  Thus 
from  the  first,  the  omnipotent  child  acts  out  from  his  souL 
and  continues  his  incarnation  by  the  extension  of  himself 
into  exterior  forms.  Instead  of  this,  the  soul-murder  of 
our  actual  system  begins  by  breaking  his  will — lever  of 
all  future  conquests.  It  undermines  self-reliance  by 
teaching  the  child  how  weak  he  is  ;  it  dissipates  all  his 
precious  illusions  ;  it  refuses  him  the  satisfaction  of 
those  desires  which  surrounding  objects  perpetually  ex- 
cite, and  teaches  him  no  means  of  obtaining  them.  On 
the  contrary,  it  inculcates  the  moral  precepts  of  self- 
denial,  such  as,  that  little  boys  and  girls  must  not  have 
everything  they  want. 

After  being  refused  the  obedience  due  to  infancy,  by 
parents  and  nurses,  our  unfortunate  child  grows  up  in 
practical  ignorance,  and  in  privation  of  the  miniature 
work-shop,  tools  and  examples  of  other  children  an  age 
more  advanced,  whose  successes  and  privileges  will  be  to 
the  little  discoverer  what  the  laurels  of  Miltiades  were 
to  Themistocles  of  Athens,  who  could  not  sleep  for  emu- 
lation until  he  had  equally  distinguished  himself.  Baf- 
fled in  the  development  of  this  industrial  instinct,  he  is 
at  last  prepared  for  that  stupid  system  of  abstractions 
and  text-book  memorizing  which  is  to  fill  his  youth  with 
disgust,  while  withdrawing  him  from  all  chance  of  con- 
tact with  his  natural  and  practical  teachers  ;  for  the 
first  requisite  of  a  teacher,  is  that  he  be  the  person  spon- 
taneously sought  by  the  child. 

In  the  absence  of  a  general  organization  of  social  labor 
and  art  with  which  true  education  is  inseparably  related, 
the  child's  freedom  of  choice  must  be  exercised  within 
comparatively  narrow  limits  either  as  regard  pursuits  or 


338  COLLEGIATE  BAEBENNESS. 

teachers  ;  but  the  parent  who  ignores  a  deep-seated  dis- 
gust to  a  teacher,  ignores  a  right  implanted  by  nature, 
and  one  which  must  be  respected,  if  we  truly  desire  the 
child's  health  of  soul.  A  teacher  hated  by  a  pupil  is  a 
perpetual  provocation  to  deceit  and  falsehood. 

Now  what  wonder  after  our  Casperhauserizing  of  child- 
ren, suppressing  Nature's  kindly  work,  and  perverting 
the  mind  by  false  directions  into  the  labyrinth  of  moral, 
philosophical,  and  theological  futilities,  without  ultima- 
tion  in  any  practical  use,  what  wonder  is  it  that  our  col- 
leges turn  out  feeble  and  good-for-nothing  creatures,  or 
else  rebels,  prepared,  by  their  disgust  at  our  moral  pre- 
cepts, for  a  career  of  violence  and  fraud  ? 


FASHIONABLE  DRESS: 

ITS   INFLUENCE    ON    THE   HEALTH   AND    DIGNITY    OF 
WOMAN. 


Oub  object,  in  reviewing  the  circulation,  and  construc- 
tion of  the  heart  and  lungs  in  the  lower  tribes  of  animals, 
has  been  to  show  the  continuity  of  the  chain  by  which 
nature  gradually  reaches  the  perfection  of  a  double  and 
independent    circulation  for  the   appropriation  of    the 
great  life-giving  element ;  and  that  where  the  Almighty 
guards  with  such  jealous  care,  even  in  the  lower  ranks  of 
creation,  the  process  by  which  the  great  end  is  attained, 
man  may  well  pause  and  wonder  at  his  presumption  in 
impeding  its  progress.     How  should  we  look  upon  the 
usages  of  society  and  the  false  taste  of  woman  in  trying 
to   shut   out  by  the  murderous   trickery  of  dress,  the 
beneficence  of  Heaven,  in  supplying  air  to  paint  her  lips 
with  coral,  and  to  add  soul  and  expressiveness  to  her 
eyes,  and  softness  to  the  hands,  and  fullness  to  the  breasts 
with  which  she  is  to  nourish  the  infant,  so  curiously  and 
wonderfully  supplied  with   her  blood?    What  truth  in 
physiology  is  better  known,  than  that  which  assures  us 
that  the  minute  arteries  that  color  the  lips  and  add  clear- 
ness to  the  skin,  derive   their  life-force  from  the   air? 
Fainting,  which  is  a  temporary  partial  suspension  of  the 
power  of  the  heart  and  lungs,  makes  the  hands  and  the 
countenance  livid  ;  and  if  it  continue  too  long,  it  passes 


340  FASHIONABLE  DRESS. 

into  death.     Partial  filling  of  the  lungs,  which  is  all  that 
is  ever  required  or  ever  allowed  by  almost  every  pursuit 
of  fashionable,  life,  is  only  a  degree  of  the  same  state  that 
occurs  in  fainting.     Only  look  at  the  position  of  a  fash- 
ionably-dressed   woman,   sitting  in   her    rocking-chair, 
embroidering  ;  see  the  approximation  of  her  arms,  and 
the  bent  neck  and  body.     The  chest  containing  the  lungs 
has  to  sustain  the  whole  weight  of  the  head  and  arms  ; 
they  hang  upon  it  almost  like  pieces  of  dead  flesh  ;  the 
intestines  are  forced  down  upon  the  womb,  and  the  great 
bloodvessels    that    supply   the  limbs    are    compressed. 
There   is   the   beautiful  spine,  superbly  arched  by  the 
Great  Artist,  with  its  exquisitely-arranged  and  graceful 
curves,  to  bring  the  centre  of  gravity  between  the  feet, 
the  very  line  of  beauty,  its  unmatched  and  unequalled 
elastic  substance  between  each  bone  to  take  off  the  shock 
of  every  step,  the  collar-bones  to  keep  the   arms  apart 
and  to  allow  the  lungs  full  play,  and  to  show  the  beauty 
of  the  breast  and  throat,  with  beautiful  and  grand  mus- 
cles on  the  back  to  keep  back  the  shoulders — the  whole 
woman — "  a  dream  of  Eden  when  the  world  was  young  ;" 
and  look,  only  look  at  the  best  results  of  Fashionable 
Society.     Great  Heaven  !  Spirits  of  Guido  and  Eaphael, 
do  ye  behold  her  ?     Shades  of  Hunter  and  Bell,  do  not 
your  bones  rattle  in  your  graves  at  the  spectacle  ?     Such 
respiration  !  with  the  lungs  poisoned  and  irritated  by  the 
flocculi  filling  the   atmosphere   of  the  parlor,  and  the 
rank  and  stifling  smell  of  a  "  magnificent "  velvet  carpet, 
filled  with  dust  for  the  simple  reason  that  it  cannot  be 
swept  away  ;  the  light  of  heaven  shut  out  by  blinds  and 
curtains,  will  stifle  three  quarters  of  the  natural  demand 
for  air,  exercise  and  food  ;  it  will  congest  the  hands  and 
eyelids,  rob  the  colorless  blood-vessels  that  nourish  the 
window  or  pellucid  cornea  of  the  eye  and  give  it  its 


FASHIONABLE  DRESS.  341 

sparkling  lustre,  and  the  skin  its  fairness,  make  the 
finger-nails  blue,  take  away  the  inclination  and  muscular 
power  to  hold  up  the  head  and  keep  the  shoulders  back, 
constipate  the  bowels,  by  robbing  them  of  their  secretions 
and  the  constant  motion  imparted  by  a  full  supply  of  air 
to  their  muscular  coat,  and  make  the  whole  woman  a  mere 
half -vitalized  machine,  fit  only  to  give  the  sickly  replies 
of  mental  inanity  to  the  insulting  twaddle  she  expects  to 
receive  from  the  male  fool  that  sits  before  her.  This  is 
the  actual  condition  of  almost  every  fashionable  woman 
in  this  city,  and  it  is  brought  about  mainly  by  want  of 
exercise  ;  she  is  unable  to  take  it  from  the  construction 
of  her  dress,  and  the  slavish  adherence  to  fashion  ;  in- 
deed she  does  not  dream  of  its  necessity  ;  she  feels  the 
wretched  lethargy  that  presses  with  leaden  weight  upon 
her  soul ;  she  knows  that  the  glad  earth  is  full  of  music, 
of  love  and  happiness  ;  her  smothered  instincts  tell  her 
she  ought  to  share  them,  but  a  cold  and  monotonous 
conventionalism  threatens  her  with  ostracism  if  she  dare 
allow  a  ray  of  nature  to  warm  the  generous  impulse  into 
life.  Great  God!  when  I  look  upon  the  beautiful  and 
fair  faces  of  my  countrywomen,  as  they  move  before  me 
like  so  many  automata,  under  the  iron  despotism  of  that 
bloodless  and  sickly  thing  called  fashion,  my  soul  is  sick 
at  the  spectacle,  and  I  am  glad  to  escape  into  the  forest 
where  I  can  see  the  wild  bird  hymning  the  praises  of  its 
Creator,  and  listen  to  the  unchecked  murmur  of  the 
winds,  and  the  leaping  of  the  dancing  rivulet ;  and  when 
I  return  to  the  duties  of  life,  I  look  from  my  window 
upon  the  little  spot  of  verdure  a  city  prison  allows  me, 
and  I  hear  the  murmur  of  the  bee,  and  see  the  little 
humming-bird  sipping  the  nectar  from  the  honey-suckle, 
my  heart  yet  leaps  with  childish  delight  as  the  lovely  lit- 
tle creature  swings  upon  the  branches  ;  I  return  to  my 


342  FASHIONABLE  DRESS. 

task,  and  feel  th?t  if  I  had  the  eloquence  and  benevolence 
of  Christ,  I  could  spend  my  life  in  no  better  cause  than 
attempting  her  instruction  in  the  laws  of  her  being,  and 
showing  her  how  beauty  and  truth,  love  and  simplicity 
are  inseparably  connected  with  the  sublime  science  of 
life. 


LINES, 

DEDICATED  TO   THE  EDITOR. 

Work! — while  bright  daylight  on  thy  path  is  beaming — 

Work  while  'tis  day  : 
Despair  not  thou,  although  thy  task  is  seeming 

To  last  alway. 
Trust !  when  the  dusky  shadows  o'er  thee  flying, 

Obscure  the  sun. 
Though  Duty's  task  is  ended  but  by  dying, 

Let  it  be  done ! 

Work ! — while  bright  daylight  on  thy  path  is  beaming, 

Though  not  for  gold — 
Fame  proves  a  phantom,  and  our  idle  dreaming 

Is  a  tale  that's  told  ; 
But  cherish  ever  with  a  grand  emotion, 

A  zest  for  strife ! 
Our  earthly  birthright  in  this  wild  commotion, 

This  threefold  life. 

Work! — while  bright  daylight  on  thy  path  is  beaming, 

For  night  palls  down. 
Work !  while  the  lustre  in  thine  eye  is  gleaming, 

To  win  the  crown. 
Work  with  thy  hand,  and  with  thy  many  talents, 

Ay,  with  thy  soul ; 
Thy  threefold  life  weighed  in  eternal  balance, 

Demands  the  whole. 


HOTEL  PRACTICE  IN  NEW  YORK-AN  INFER- 
NAL   ABUSE. 


"  He  was  a  stranger  and  we  took  him  in." 

The  abuses  of  our  profession  demand  the  eye  of  Argus, 
and  the  arms  of  Briareus.  If  father  Jupiter  paid  that 
old  coon  for  guarding  Io  no  better  than  our  brethren  pay 
us  for  watching  over  their  characters,  we  don't  wonder 
Apollo  has  given  so  large  a  number  of  them  to  the  devil 
It  would  seem  that  "respectable  gentleman  in  black" 
(we  think  our  brethren  have  selected  a  most  appropriate 
color  for  their  dress)  has  given  them  special  counsel  in 
getting  up  the  system  of  practice  at  present  pursued  in 
the  "  Hotel  Practice  "  of  our  city.  The  cookery  and  ven- 
tilation in  these  "  magnificent  establishments,"  together 
with  the  refined  and  fastidious  palates  of  a  large  portion 
of  the  travelling  public,  afford  uncommon  facilities  for 
practice  upon  their  bodies  and  their  pockets.  The  phy- 
sician who  has  given  a  philosophical  glance  at  the  valiant 
trenchermen  engaged  at  their  suppers  on  board  a  North 
River  steamboat,  and  then,  after  fortifying  his  stomach 
with  a  glass  of  brandy-and-water,  and  his  nose  with  a 
piece  of  camphor,  descended  into  that  "inferno,"  the 
lower  cabin  at  midnight,  has  had  a  practical  idea  of  the 
facilities  for  "Hotel  Practice."  On  board  the  boat,  the 
patient  spends  but  one  night ;  at  the  hotel  usually  sev- 
eral ;  he  is  generally  ready  for  practice  by  the  third 
night,  when  the  operation  commences.  Nine  out  of  ten 
15* 


344  HOTEL  PEACTICE. 

of  the  cases  of  sickness  at  these  places  are  cholera  mor- 
bus, demanding  no  more  than  a  purgative,  with  a  little 
laudanum,  or  tinct.  hyosciamus,  fresh  air,  and  a  little 
light  soup  ;  but  getting  considerably  more,  as  you  shall 
see.  The  modern  discoveries  in  "  Hotel  Practice  "  may 
be  of  service  to  our  country  readers  ;  if  editors  will  give 
the  hint,  they  will  prqbably  get  no  drinks  gratis  when 
they  come  to  the  city. 

A  violent  pull  at  the  bell  summons  the  porter,  who  is 
requested  to  bring  a  doctor  immediately  ;  he  may  possi- 
bly be  asked  to  bring  a  gentleman  of  character  ;  'tis  all 
one,  however,  he  has  received  his  cue  from  the  bar- 
keeper, between  whom  and  the  doctor  there  is  "  an  ar- 
rangement." He  assures  the  gentleman,  in  the  midst  of 
his  writhings  and  groans,  that  Dr.  Snooks  is  one  of  the 
first  medical  men  in  the  city,  whose  skill  has  often  been 
tested  in  the  house  ;  the  Esculapian  is  summoned,  and 
is  soon  at  the  bed-side.  The  sick  man  being  in  an  ad- 
mirable condition  to  acknowledge  sympathy,  receives  it 
in  abundance,  and  at  suitable  intervals  a  few  calomel 
pills,  and  occasional  reminders  of  the  necessity  of  "  doing 
something"  at  a  lower  portion  of  his  intestinal  tract. 
He  is  regaled  at  suitable  intervals  with  a  joke,  a  little 
laudanum,  and  peppermint  or  camphor,  with  a  few  drops 
from  a  wonderful  little  bottle,  which  the  doctor  takes 
from  his  side  pocket ;  he  is  learnedly  informed  that  the 
"  primse  viae  must  be  cleared  out."  This  is  very  satisfac- 
tory, and  convinces  him  of  the  doctor's  intelligence. 
The  window  is  judiciously  closed,  for  fear  of  his  "  taking 
cold."  The  doctor  endures  the  poisoned  atmosphere, 
which  has  mainly  produced  the  attack,  by  the  aid  of  an 
occasional  escape  and  visit  at  the  bar,  or  a  drink  from 
his  pocket  pistol,  and  a  walk  in  the  hall.  Toward  morn- 
ing, if  nature  be  merciful,  and  the  pills  be  retained, 


AN  INFEBNAL  ABUSE.  345 

relief  follows.  If  the  patient  were  now  let  alone,  and 
could  get  a  little  fresh  air,  some  clean  and  simple  meat 
broth,  and  the  attention  of  a  mother,  a  wife,  or  a  sister, 
he  would  be  out  next  day  ; — but  this  is  no  part  of  our 
philanthropist's  plan  ;  it  wouldn't  pay  house-rent  and 
horse-keep,  and  servants'  hire.  He  is  therefore  well 
dosed  for  three  days,  to  overcome  "  the  tendency  to  in- 
flammation of  the  bowels  ;"  mustard  plasters  are  liberally 
used,  and  he  may  thank  heaven  if  he  escapes  leeching 
and  blistering.  When  he  evinces  a  disposition  to  bolt, 
and  relates  his  former  experience  in  a  similar  case,  where 
he  was  not  so  fortunate  as  to  meet  with  any  one  but  his 
poor  country  doctor,  (who,  of  course,  knew  nothing,  and 
had  only  one  old  horse,  and  neither  rent  nor  servants  to 
pay,)  he  is  frightened  with  tales  of  the  "epidemic  condi- 
tion of  the  air  in  the  production  of  dysentery,  and  several 
severe  cases  now  under  treatment,"  etc.  etc.,  with  the 
story  of  Mr.  So-and-so,  who  "was  doing  very  well  till  he 
insisted  on  going  home,  where  he  speedily  died,"  etc.  etc. 
Another  week's  treatment  with  tonics,  is  the  consequence 
of  this  rascality,  and  a  bill  of  $50  or  $75,  per  centage  to 
the  bar-keeper  off. 

Those  who  come  to  the  city  with  chronic  diseases,  de- 
siring to  submit  to  the  treatment  of  some  gentleman 
previously  selected,  generally  escape  this  miserable  ras- 
cality ;  by  no  means,  however,  without  hints  and  innuen- 
does of  the  superior  skill  of  their  favorite  physician,  who 
may,  however,  never  in  his  life  have  seen  or  treated  such 
a  case  as  the  one  at  hand.  There  is  not  a  practical  man 
in  this  city,  of  any  character,  who  is  not  perfectly  aware 
of  the  truth  of  this  expose,  and  we  most  earnestly  hope 
this  statement  will  be  extensively  copied.  Our  editorial 
friends  could  not  better  serve  the  cause  of  humanity. 
More  of  this  anon. 


MEDICAL  EXPERIENCES. 


BRANDY  AND  TOBACCO,  COFFEE,  OPIUM  AND  TEA— WHY  HAS  NATURE  PRODUCED 
THESE  ARTICLES?— ARE  THEIR  INFLUENCES  WHOLLY  EVIL?— DO  THEY  SERVE 
SOME   PURPOSE    IN  NATURE? 

Man's  history  in  connection  with  the  narcotics  and 
stimulants  is  most  singular  and  instructive.  It  is  not 
probable  that  the  presence  of  these  various  articles  in 
the  vegetable  kingdom  is  an  accident :  we  do  not  believe 
that  anything  in  nature  comes  by  accident ;  all  God's 
works  have  their  cause,  their  object  and  end  ;  and  that 
tea,  coffee,  tobacco,  alcohol  and  opium  have  their  design, 
is  a  fact  so  palpable  that  none  will  deny  it ;  for  to  deny 
the  operation  of  a  benevolent  cause  in  all  the  phenomena 
of  the  universe,  is  to  fling  the  works  of  creation  into  the 
whirlpool  of  chance. 

Tea  is  an  article  of  universal  consumption  by  whole 
empires  of  men  ;  and  in  the  currents  of  commerce  it 
floats  to  every  part  of  the  universe  ;  not  a  continent  or 
an  island  is  without  it,  and  it  is  consumed  by  hundreds 
of  millions  of  people  daily.  It  acts  upon  our  social  qual- 
ities, and  the  female  in  particular  is  rendered  social  and 
talkative  by  its  use.  It  is  the  bairn  of  all  headaches, 
pains,  ills,  and  sorrows,  and  unless  used  in  excess,  none 
are  aware  of  any  baneful  effects  from  its  use.  It  seems 
not  to  disturb  our  animal  nature,  but  is  the  reverse  of 
alcohol  in  its  effects  in  this  particular.     The  universal 


COFFEE,  TEA  AND   ALCOHOL.  347 

instinct  which  causes  its  nse  in  civilized  life  is  not  well 
understood. 

Coffee  is  not  as  universally  used  as  tea,  and  is  more 
confined  to  southern  climates.  The  Arab  loves  it ;  its 
use  is  universal  among  the  sons  of  the  Desert.  All  civil- 
ized nations  use  it ;  but  the  savage  man  does  not  incline 
to  it  as  a  beverage.  Its  effects  are  exhilarating  and  de- 
lightful, and  it  acts  like  tea  on  the  social  faculties,  but 
never  to  any  great  extent  disturbs  the  grosser  passions 
of  our  race.  In  excess  it  weakens  the  nervous  system  by 
over  stimulus,  and  induces  a  premature  decay  in  the 
nervous  powers.  In  the  blood  it  acts  as  a  chemical 
agent  more  potently  than  tea.  It  is  more  used  in  warm 
than  in  cold  climates. 

Tobacco  has  run  a  most  remarkable  career,  having 
reduced  to  its  sway  two-thirds  of  the  human  race  ;  its 
effects  are  eagerly  sought  by  the  civilized  and  savage 
man,  and  its  pestilent  fumes  scent  the  palace  and  the 
wigwam.  The  Russian,  the  Serman,  the  Hindoo  and  the 
savage  both  chew  and  smoke  it.  It  sets  up  a  constant 
chemical  action  in  the  blood,  and  weakens  the  nervous 
energies  by  excessive  action.  As  the  sexual  organs  con- 
stitute the  final  object  of  our  creation,  and  they  are 
only  controlled  by  the  spinal  nerves,  its  depressing  ac- 
tion in  their  region  is  peculiarly  manifest.  It  blunts  the 
passions  and  dulls  the  mental  powers.  No  man  ever 
wrote  a  good  poem  or  speech  under  its  influence. 

Alcohol  is  the  child  of  the  Arab,  and  that  strange  peo- 
ple use  less  of  it  than  any  other  people  on  the  globe  who 
can  command  it.  There  is  not  a  savage  man  on  the 
earth  that  has  tasted  but  loves  it :  the  American  savage, 
the  Negro,  the  Chinaman,  the  European,  and  the  Ameri- 
can. The  dwellers  around  the  Arctic  circle  love  it  above 
all  other  stimulants,  and  the  Russian,  the  Circassian  and 


348  COFFEE,  TEA    AND   ALCOHOL. 

Tartar  are  equally  fond  of  it.  The  German  tribes  prefer 
it  in  the  form  of  beer,  and  over  the  globe  it  is  drank  by 
all  people  in  whose  veins  runs  the  German  blood.  The 
Frenchman  and  Spaniard  prefer  their  wines  and  the 
brandy  made  from  distillation  of  the  product  of  the 
grape.  Its  use  disturbs  the  animal  passions  more  deep- 
ly than  any  other  beverage,  and  it  rapidly  exhausts  the 
nervous  energies.  Governments  have  employed  it  in 
armies  and  navies  ;  it  has  been  carried  all  over  the  globe 
to  turn  men  into  brutes  and  to  make  them  water  the 
earth  with  tears.  Some  organizations  are  roused  to 
a  high  grade  of  mental  enjoyment  by  its  use.  The 
tongue  of  some  is  set  in  motion,  and  the  dull  talker 
becomes  animated  and  eloquent ;  another  gives  loose  to 
mirth,  songs  and  dancing  ;  but  in  the  end  it  burns  up 
the  nervous  fibre,  and  the  soul  no  longer  has  power  to 
make  music  on  those  willing  chords  ;  their  songs  are 
silent,  and  mirth  loses  its  charms.  The  savage  loves  it 
becaiise  it  excites  him  to  deexfs  of  daring  and  blood.  In 
the  highly  organized,  man  it  quickens  the  mental  current, 
and  brings  to  the  surface  all  the  power  and  vivacity  of 
the  soul.  I  have  known  clergymen  who  always  preached 
under  its  influence  :  it  lent  wings  to  prayer,  unlocked 
the  deep  fountains  of  devotion,  and  called  in  rapid  glance 
before  the  mental  vision,  in  bright  array,  all  the  garnered 
blessings  of  the  celestial  world. 

A  curious  fact  in  natural  history  shows  the  fiery  Arab 
of  the  Desert  to  have  played  a  grand  part  in  the  great 
drama  of  God  in  the  earth.  He  gave  to  the  world  a  re- 
ligion which  enjoined  the  worship  of  the  sun  and  the 
hosts  of  heaven  ;  it  ruled  the  millions  for  centuries  : 
then  he  founded  the  Jewish  ritual,  and  evolved  a  type 
of  religion  that  has  remained  unaltered  for  three  thous- 
and years.     From  this  philosophy — exalted  by  the  vis- 


OPIUM  THE  ELIXIR   OF  THE   ORIENTAL.  349 

ions  of  the  prophets — sprang  Jesus,  whose  precepts  have 
gone  over  the  earth,  finding  a  response  in  the  bosom  of 
the  most  enlightened  nations.  Then  came  the  Mussul- 
man, and  with  fire,  and  sword,  and  alcohol  he  ravaged 
Europe  and  Asia.  The  Arab,  the  dweller  in  tents,  the 
"  child  of  the  Desert,"  has  given  religion  to  two-thirds  of 
the  world,  and  furnished  the  whole  with  its  liquor. 

I  cannot  stop  to  reason  on  the  results  of  alcohol  among 
men  as  a  whole,  but  barely  remark,  that  among  the  ruder 
nations  it  weakens  and  exterminates  them  ;  while  among 
the  higher  forms  of  the  race,  it  goads  his  passions,  sets 
him  in  motion  and  on  fire,  and  plays  in  its  grand  results 
an  important  part  in  the  progress  of  civilization. 

Opium  is  to  the  Oriental  what  alcohol  is  to  the  Euro- 
pean. It  is  used  throughout  Asia ;  the  Chinese,  the 
Hindoo,  the  Japanese,  all  regard  it  as  a  grand  catholi- 
con,  and  seek  on  all  occasions  to  consume  and  enjoy  it. 
It  impresses  deeply  the  nervous  system,  and  brings  out 
to  the  external  perception  the  hidden  mysteries  of  the 
human  organization.  Bright  visions  float  before  the 
awakened  imagination,  and  dreams  whose  beauty  sur- 
passes the  gorgeous  scenes  of  the  Elysium,  enchant 
and  ruin  the  man  who  yields  to  its  use.  It  becomes  the 
"  unconscious  minister  .of  celestial  pleasures,"  and  gilds 
its  rainbow  promise  with  elysian  hopes. 

Says  De  Quincey,  "I  had  taken  cold,  and  procured 
some  opium,  and  took  the  prescribed  quantity.  In  less 
than  an  hour,  O  heavens  !  what  a  revulsion !  What  an 
upheaving  from  its  lowest  depths  of  the  inner  spirit! 
What  an  apocalypse  of  the  world  within  me !  That  my 
pains  had  vanished  was  a  mere  trifle  in  my  eyes  ;  these 
negative  effects  were  swallowed  up  in  the  immensity  of 
those  positive  effects  which  had  opened  before  me  in  the 
abyss  of  divine  enjoyment  thu#suddenly  revealed.     Here 


350  EFFECTS  OF  OPIUM  UPON  THE  BRAIN. 

was  the  panacea  for  all  human  woes  ;  here  was  the  secret 
of  happiness  about  which  philosophers  have  speculated 
for  so  many  ages,  at  once  discovered  ;  happiness  could 
now  be  bought  for  a  penny  and  carried  in  the  waistcoat 
pocket ;  portable  ease  might  be  had  corked  up  in  a  pint 
bottle ;  and  peace  of  mind  could  be  sent  down  by  the 
gallon  by  the  mail-coach." 

About  one-third  of  the  human  race  eat  opium,  and  its 
deep  and  terrible  effects  on  the  brain,  as  well  as  those  of 
alcohol,  bring  into  direct  action  certain  portions  of  the 
brain,  whose  activity  and  powers  having  been  thus 
brought  into  actual  existence  in  the  outer  world,  are 
transmitted  to  posterity.  The  action  of  these  powerful 
stimuli  on  the  nervous  mass,  evolves  new  forces,  new  life, 
new  thoughts,  new  faculties,  which  before  were  dormant 
and  unknown  ;  just  as  the  acid  acting  on  the  zinc  and 
the  copper  evolves  new  forces  from  the  metal  which  till 
now  were  unsuspected.  Alcohol  acts  on  the  base  of  the 
brain,  goading  its  powers  into  life,  and  those  forces  once 
in  action,  re-act  on  the  moral  and  intellectual  regions  of 
brain.  This  view  of  the  results  of  stimulants  does  not 
preclude  the  fact,  that  vast  evil  may  grow  out  of  its  use  ; 
but  this  philosophy  of  its  effects  is  the  only  one  that  ex- 
plains to  me  the  instinct  of  all  men  for  narcotics  and 
stimulants.  All  the  forces  of  nature  evolve  in  their 
movements  evil  as  well  as  good ;  the  force  which  rolls 
the  globe  on  its  axis,  may  rend  nature  by  an  earthquake 
and  engulph  a  city.  The  good  effects,  if  they  could  be 
seen  distinctly,  even  of  these  vile  drinks,  would  doubt- 
less outweigh  the  evil ;  but  as  evil  is  the  outward  and 
most  glaring  result,  we  are  horrified,  as  we  should  be,  at 
the  ruin  that  is  wrought  by  intemperance.  We  can  com- 
prehend fully  the  evil  resulting  to  a  family  by  an  utter 
prostration  of  the  parent  by  stimulants,  but  we  cannot  so 


ARE  STIMULANTS  ALL  EVIL?  351 

easily  demonstrate  the  good  effects  resulting  to  individuals 
or  nations  by  a  happy  transmission  of  mental  power  by 
the  pen,  to  after  ages,  when  such  stimulus  has  reached 
its  highest  point  of  allowable  intensity.  This  is  a  novel 
theory,  but  it  is  the  only  one  that  "  vindicates  the  ways 
of  God  to  man  "  in  the  permission  of  such  articles  as  al- 
cohol and  opium.  It  is  more  than  possible  that  science 
may  yet  regulate  the  action  of  these  articles  on  the  hu- 
man organization,  so  as  to  elicit  their  highest  possible 
powers,  as  well  as  it  has  regulated  the  magnetic  battery 
so  as  to  elicit  a  current  of  the  highest  possible  inten- 
sity. 


SHOTS  FROM  THE   CAVE  OF  A  RECLUSE, 

AT    THE    MEDICAL    ANTHROPOPHAGI. 


"  I  had  three  large  axes,  and  abundance  of  hatchets  ;  but  with  much  chop, 
ping  and  cutting  knotty,  hard  wood,  they  were  all  full  of  notches,  and  dull,  and 
though  I  had  a  grindstone,  I  could  not  turn  it  and  grind  my  axe  too."— Robin- 
son Crusoe. 

Glorious  old  Dan  Defoe !  whose  father,  praised  be  God, 
was  a  butcher  of  Cripplegate,  and  thereby  entitled  to  our 
reverence  as  a  practical  philanthropist.  Like  old  Dad 
Shakspeare,  the  wool  carder,  neither  of  ye  belonged  to  a 
"learned  profession,"  and  therefore  your  children  might 
justly  claim  the  right  of  instructing  their  fellows  in  self- 
reliance  and  honesty,  and  renounce  the  glorious  pri- 
vilege of  professional  mendicancy.  The  inexpressible 
charm  of  the  living  pages  of  thy  Crusoe  enchained  our 
youthful  fancy,  and  gave  thee  the  first  warm  offerings  of 
a  young  and  wayward  heart ;  but  the  ripened  judgment 
of  manhood  feels  the  spirit  strengthened  to  breast  the 
trials  of  life.  "Whilst  we  pore  with  increasing  wonder 
over  the  rich  treasures  of  thy  magic  page,  the  heart 
swells  with  gratitude,  and  we  become  reconciled  to  the 
mysterious  providence  of  thy  persecution — for  that,  like 
fire,  but  refines  all  it  seems  to  consume.  Who  shall  tell 
the  influence  of  a  Defoe  or  a  Cervantes  throughout  fu- 


SHOTS  PROM  THE  CAVE  OP  A  BEOLUSE.  353 

ture  ages  ?  What  unborn  intellects  will  not  be  sharpen- 
ed by  their  wit — what  self-reliance  be  born  of  their 
glorious  suggestive  power — what  hearts  be  nourished 
by  their  virtue  and  wisdom? 

But  what,  in  truth,  is  there  in  Crusoe  that  has  not  its 
parallel  in  the  position  of  every  self-relying  man? 
Write  a  medical  quarterly  if  you  would  realize  the 
straits  of  poor  Crusoe !  Cast  your  eye  over  the  pages 
of  the  medical  and  miscellaneous  press,  and  then  if 
you  are  not  convinced  of  the  difficulty  of  winning  your 
readers'  attention,  try  to  "  turn  your  own  grindstone  and 
grind  you  axe  too."  Alas  !  dear  reader,  this  is  a  tender 
point.  We  told  you  before,  that  we  had  a  most  feeling 
conviction  of  having  built  our  canoe  so  large  we  couldn't 
get  it  to  the  water  ;  and  now  we  have  "  so  long  been  cut- 
ting and  chopping  hard  wood  to  build  our  fortifications 
against  the  medical  savages,  that  our  axe  is  all  full  of 
notches,  and  we  can't  well  turn  our  own  grindstone  and 
grind  it  too,"  much  less  yours  ;  and  we  have  no  special 
reason  to  suppose  you  do  not  require  that  operation,  i.  e. 
if  we  may  judge  of  your  capacity  by  the  medical  and 
other  journals  that  seem  to  delight  you  so,  and  the  abu- 
ses in  society  to  which  you  so  amiably  submit.  We  have 
been  so  busy  with  the  medical  and  surgical  anthropopha- 
gi, that  the  few  grains  of  rice  and  barley  that  came  up, 
as  it  were,  by  the  providence  of  God,  at  the  side  of  our 
cave,  are  well-nigh  famished,  and  we  have  scarce  saved 
seed  enough  to  try  once  again  the  productive  powers  of 
the  arid  soil.  But  let  us  be  good-natured  about  our  af- 
flictions. Having  got  up  our  old  grindstone  so  it  will 
turn,  let  us  try  and  grind  our  axe  a  little  ;  you  may  hold 
yours  on  at  the  same  time,  and  we'll  try  and  grind  '^m 
both  ;  they'll  bear  it  no  doubt  with  benefit. 

If  you  have  an  eye  for  the  dignity  of  the  Academy,  and 


354  SHOTS  FROM  THE  CAVE  OF  A  RECLUSE. 

its  elegant  and  conservative  ethics,  we  advise  you  by  no 
means  to  ruffle  your  temper  with  this  journal.     Seat 
yourself  on  the  side  of  a  grassy  bank  in  the  cool  of  even- 
ing, and  observe  the  graceful  dignity  with  which  a  vener- 
able gander  will  take  the  lead  of  his  progeny,  as  he  goeg, 
with  his  mate  directly  behind  him,  down  the  side  of  the 
bank,  into  the  muddy  pool ;  every  gosling  treads  pre- 
cisely in  the  footsteps  of  its  predecessor,  nor  would  one 
venture  out  of  the  path  their  sire  has  trod  in  for  so 
many  years.     Excuse  me,  reader,  if  I  compare  you  to  the 
goslings,  and  the  gander  to  some  venerable   professor 
who  presides  at  the  deliberations  of  our  beloved  breth- 
ren to  whose  ministrations  you  commit  your  precious 
bodies.    But  we  have,  as  you  will  see,  a  small  hump  on 
the  bridge  of  our  nose  ;  this  augurs  a  combative  propen- 
sity ;  it  is  the  germ  of  the  horn  that  reaches  its  highest 
perfection  in  the  rhinoceros.    We  greatly  affection  that 
animal,  for  he  at  least  knows  how  to  stand  his  ground ! 
he  is  hard  to  drive  ;  he  should  be  the  type  of  every  re- 
form journalist. 


PERCENTAGE  ON  PRESCRIPTIONS. 


Falstajf.    When  Mistress  Bridget  lost  the  handle  of  her  fan, 
I  took" t  it  upon  my  honor  thon  hadst  it  not 
Pistol.    Didst  thou  not  share  1   Hadst  thou  not  fifteen  pence  t 
FcUstaJT.    Reason,  you  rogue,  reason  ;  think'st  thou 
I'll  endanger  my  soul  gratis  ? 

If  Moliere  had  known  as  much  of  the  genius  of  the 
profession  in  this  city  as  we  do,  he  might  have  given  a 
scene  illustrative  of  the  high  sense  of  honesty  cultivated 
by  some  of  them,  that  would  make  an  admirable  addition 
to  poor  Argan's  complaint.  Some  of  our  apothecaries, 
too,  would  make  admirable  yoke-fellows  for  Monsieur 
Fleurant,  and  Pistol.  Whether  they  would  condescend 
to  the  unprofessional  employment  of  "conveying"  (see 
Pistol's  correction  of  Nym,  Scene  HE.,  Act  1 — Merry 
Wives  of  Windsor)  the  handle  of  a  fan,  is  doubtful,  The 
reader  will  form  his  own  conclusions,  and  give  us  credit 
for  exposing  a  monstrous  abuse  of  confidence  that  pre- 
vails to  a  great  extent  in  this  city. 

It  is  nothing  less  than  a  regular  agreement  between 
some  physicians  and  their  favorite  apothecaries,  whereby 
a  certain  portion  of  the  price  paid  by  the  patient  for 
every  prescription,  is  given  to  the  physician  for  his  pat- 
ronage !  In  some  instances  this  amounts  to  one  half ! 
and  in  none  we  believe  is  it  less  than  a  third !  certain 
cabalistic  signs  being  appended  to  the  written  prescrip- 
tion to  show  whether  the  patient  will  bear  a  high  charge. 
What  the  result  of  this  truly  demoniacal  arrangement 


356  PERCENTAGE  ON  PRESCRIPTIONS. 

must  be,  we  suppose  its  bare  mention  will  make  appar- 
ent to  the  meanest  intellect.  For  fear,  however,  any  one 
should  not  understand  us,  we  simply  remark,  that  the 
more  physic  they  take,  the  better  for  the  doctor. 

We  have  heard  the  innocence  of  the  practice  defended 
by  some  physicians,  whose  modesty  or  lack  of  ability 
prevented  their  collecting  their  fees,  and  their  argument 
seemed  quite  satisfactory  to  their  consciences.  The  thing 
is  done  in  this  ingenious  and  high-minded  manner  :  Sup- 
posing these  benevolent  gentlemen  desire  to  give  the 
patient  an  ounce  of  salts,  value  sixpence  ;  this  he  would 
take  upon  the  old  plan  at  one  draught,  dissolved  in  half 
a  tumbler  of  Croton  water.  Now  they  write  it  thus  : 
always  beginning  with  the  sign  of  Jupiter,  and  generally 
ending  in  excellent  hog  Latin  ;  more  especially  if  the 
apothecary  cannot  understand  the  language  ;  moreover, 
they  write  it  in  a  miserable  hand,  because  that  looks 
learned — and  abbreviate  each  word  because  their  time  is 
valuable. 

Sulph.  Mag. §  L 

Aq.  Fol.  Rosar §  viii. 

Initials  qf  Name. 

Now  follow  the  abbreviated  Latin  directions  : — "  Cap. 
coch.  mag.  qusecun.  hor." 

This  may  be  hog  Latin  or  not,  just  as  you  please  ;  for 
by  not  finishing  the  words  they  avoid  error.  The  mean- 
ing is  conveyed  to  them  by  the  text  of  the  English  book 
from  which  they  copy  it,  or  they  would  be  reduced  to  the 
mortifying  necessity  of  writing  their  own  language. 

But  what  does  it  all  mean  ?  An  ounce  of  Epsom  Salts, 
and  eight  ounces  of  Rose  Water  :  take  a  large  spoonful 
every  hour  ; — that's  all.     But  it  costs  half  a  dollar  ;  and 


PERCENTAGE  ON  PRESCRIPTIONS.  357 

if  particularly  marked,  and  composed  of  an  additional 
half  cent's  worth  of  coloring  matter,  and  essential  oil  to 
give  it  a  higher  flavor,  (the  whole  only  costing  the  apothe- 
cary seven  cents,)  why,  then  it  may  bring  a  dollar.  The 
patient  being  told  that  it  is  a  very  particular  and  expen- 
sive preparation,  and  that  the  doctor  always  gets  his 
medicine  more  carefully  and  reasonably  prepared  at  Mr. 
So-and-so's — innocently  swallows  the  he,  and  a  dose  of 
medicine  every  hour,  for  sixteen  hours  ;  he  rarely  gets 
off  with  less  than  eight. 

This  method  is  applied  to  an  infinite  variety  of  pre- 
scriptions ;  and  we  have  it  on  good  authority,  that  a 
certain    venerable    gentleman,  now  deceased,  received 
three  thousand  dollars  a-year !     His  apothecary  told  us 
that  he  had  prepared  some  hundreds  of  vials,  containing 
a  solution  of  six  ounces  of  alkaline  water,  colored  with 
cochineal,  for  which  the  doctor  paid  him  two  shillings 
each,  and  for  which  he  charged  each  of  the  poor  patients 
who  were  treated  gratuitously,  three  dollars,  returning  the 
doctor  two  dollars  and  seventy-five  cents  on  each  bottle  ! 
Ought  not  this  unrighteous  and  cruel  collusion  to  be  ex- 
posed?    Truly,  this  is  giving  a  stone  for  bread,  and  a 
scorpion  for  a  fish.     "Who  dare  deny  that  this  is  done  ex- 
tensively in  this  city?     Reader,  suspect  the  man  who 
denies  it,  of  similar  villainy,  for  they  all  know  it  is  done. 
But  who  are  the  physicians  and  who  are  the  apothecaries  ? 
Examine  their  countenances,  and  their  general  deport- 
ment.    These  never  he.     If  you  are  not  skillful  in  human 
nature,  and  suspect  your  physician,  and  a  "  very  particu- 
lar and  favorite  apothecary  of  his," — go  to  some  other 
than  the  one  directed,  of  still  higher  standing  for  care 
and  skill,  and  see  how  the  physician  receives  your  dis- 
obedience.    Never  mind  his  scolding ;  you  must  obey 
bis  directions  as  it  regards  the   administration   of  the 


358  PERCENTAGE  ON  PRESCRIPTIONS. 

medicine,  or  you  ought  not  to  employ  him  ;  but  you  have 
a  right  to  test  his  honesty  in  such  a  matter,  particularly 
if  he  gives  much  physic.  After  you  have  detected  him, 
it  is  your  duty  to  report  him.  The  man  whom  his  apoth- 
ecary betrayed  to  us  was  notorious  in  this  city,  and  such 
infernal  arrangements  are  still  common. 

But  God  forbid  we  should  do  harm  to  the  sick;  we 
would  leave  no  erroneous  impressions  upon  the  mind  of 
our  readers,  with  regard  to  the  necessity  of  the  hourly 
administration  of  remedies,  or  even  every  half,  or  quar- 
ter hour.  This  is  often  of  such  importance,  that  a  failure 
to  obey  the  directions  of  the  physician  in  a  disease  such 
as  pleurisy,  or  some  other  acute  affection,  might  be  the 
cause  of  its  gaining  such  headway  as  to  destroy  life.  To 
save  the  necessity  of  the  lancet,  or  the  reduction  of  the 
system  by  purgatives,  in  pleurisies  and  other  inflamma- 
tory affections,  physicians  of  the  highest  character  for 
skill  and  honesty,  often  give  medicines  that  require  to  be 
administered  in  this  way  ;  therefore  it  behooves  the  pa- 
tient to  select  a  physician  of  probity  and  science,  and  to 
endeavor  to  win  his  confidence  by  respect  and  obedience. 
Such  a  man  will  show  an  interest  entirely  above  all  selfish 
considerations ;  his  patient  will  soon  perceive,  by  his 
friendly  and  earnest  instructions  how  to  preserve  health, 
that  the  highest  gratification  he  can  derive,  will  be  to 
prevent  the  necessity  of  giving  any  medicine  at  all 
There  is  nothing  impossible  in  this  ;  nor  do  such  men 
suffer  in  their  reputation  or  pockets  ;  such  men  as  John 
B.  Beck,  Moore  Hoyt,  Francis  U.  Johnston,  were  above 
such  actions,  and  we  will  answer  for  a  dozen  more  in  this 
city.  "We  hope  to  be  the  means  of  increasing  the  num- 
ber ;  they  are  not  all  past  saving. 


ADVICE 

TO   COUNTEY   PEOPLE    WHO   SEEK    MEDICAL   AH)   Etf 
THE    CITY. 


No  one  has  as  yet  attempted,  so  far  as  we  have  read, 
the  peculiarly  disagreeable  task  of  explaining  the  disad- 
vantages under  which  people  who  require  medical  or  sur- 
gical advice  labor,  when  they  seek  it  in  this  city.  It  is  a 
thankless  duty,  but  one  which  we  are  both  able  and  will- 
ing to  perform.  If  we  have  not  earned  a  character  for 
common  honesty  and  plain  speaking  during  thirty-five 
years'  professional  and  sixteen  of  editorial  life,  this  arti- 
cle will  have  no  weight  with  the  reader,  and  we  had  bet- 
ter have  left  it  unwritten. 

From  the  first  two  numbers,  in  January,  1849,  we  have 
endeavored  to  show  in  the  articles,  "  Who  shall  Guard 
the  Shepherds,"  the  evil  results  of  colleges,  with  their 
close  boards  of  examiners  and  bought  professorships, 
and  diplomas  purchased  at  $25  each.  We  have  proved 
to  the  commonest  kind  of  commercial  dollar  and  cent 
common  sense — and  heaven  knows  that  is  common  and 
mean  enough — that  anything  like  a  fair  examination  of 
their  candidates  for  diplomas,  would  result  in  the  rejec- 
tion of  four-fifths  of  those  who  had  paid  for  their  tickets, 
either  with  money  or  promises,  and  were  obliged  to  pay 
in  good  bankable  funds  for  their  diplomas.  Now  it  would 
be  simply  silly  to  suppose  that  these  professors  would 
16 


360  EVILS  OF    DIPLOMA    SHOPS. 

give  a  conscientious  examination,  were  it  even  certain  that 
they  themselves  were  competent  to  do  it  :  some  of  them 
are,  we  know,  and  some  are  absolutely  either  below  med- 
iocrity in  their  acquirements,  or  so  warped  by  prejudice 
and  obsolete  theories,  as  to  be  utterly  unfit  to  give  a 
philosophical  examination  directed  to  finding  out  a  young 
man's  reasoning  powers,  and  the  probability  of  his  mak- 
ing a  safe  and  studious  adviser.  But  only  look  at  the  evils 
of  these  close  examining  and  diploma  huxtering  shops. 
The  commercial  American  is  a  snob,  body  and  soul — 
that  is  universally  admitted.  He  can  buy  a  fine  house, 
a  pair  of  horses,  a  pew  in  church,  and  a  season  box  at 
the  opera !  He  must  have  a  fashionable  physician,  who 
must  be  a  professor,  because  that  settles  his  status  as 
a  physician  or  a  surgeon  with  the  simple  public.  His 
country  friend  looks  up  to  him  for  advice,  and  dare  not 
do  otherwise  than  he  directs.  He  may  be  a  disciple  of 
homoeopathy,  allopathy  or  mesmerism  at  home,  but  if  he  be 
so  ill  as  to  require  more  counsel  and  come  to  the  city,  he 
must  talk  with  his  friends  about  his  ailments  ;  and  now 
comes  in  the  whole  battery  of  conceit,  pride  of  opinion 
and  self-love,  to  influence  the  poor  distracted  brain  of 
the  invalid.  We  may  be  supposed  capable  of  a  disinter- 
ested estimate  of  the  comparative  value  of  our  city  mag- 
nates. We  know  men  amongst  them  whose  professional 
opinions  are  perfectly  reliable,  to  whom  we  never  speak 
from  their  social  repulsiveness,  and  we  know  those  who 
are  peculiarly  agreeable,  whose  opinions  are  quite  be- 
neath contempt.  We  know  a  man  whose  surgical  experi- 
ence is  of  the  highest  character,  whose  word  is  utterly 
unreliable,  when  there  is  a  possibility  of  losing  the  fee  if 
he  speak  the  truth.  A  man  who,  in  advanced  life,  would 
attempt,  with  trembling  hand,  to  make  an  artificial  pupil 
in  the  human  eye,  if  the  offered  fee  were  tempting  enough, 


MEDICAL  TRADES  UNIONS.  361 

and  who  denounces  his  pupils  as  pretenders.  We  know 
men  who  will  tell  the  person  inquiring  that  Dr.  So-and- 
so  is  not  a  physician  or  surgeon,  because  he  does  not  be- 
long to  the  Medical  Association  or  County  Society,  or 
the  Academy — and  yet  all  those  associations  are  mere 
cliques,  or  trades  unions,  for  securing  business,  or  get- 
ting their  names  in  some  way  before  the  public  once  or 
twice  a  year.  Catlin,  the  notorious  aider  and  abettor  of 
the  murderess,  Cunningham,  is  now  a  member  of  the 
New  York  Academy  of  Medicine !  and  the  son  of  one  of 
our  highest  surgical  magnates  has  been  up  before  a 
board  of  inquirers  for  stealing  large  quantities  of  hospi- 
tal stores  of  the  sick  soldiers,  and  ought  to  have  been 
up  for  bribery  in  excusing  those  who  expected  to  be 
drafted  for  their  country's  service.  The  most  elegant 
scholar  and  refined  gentleman  we  ever  possessed,  a  pro- 
fessor in  our  oldest  city  college,  the  most  acute  intellect 
and  sagacious  practical  mind  we  ever  knew,  died  in  pov- 
erty and  heart-broken  from  public  and  professional  neg- 
lect. A  man  who  will  treat  your  disease  allopathically, 
homceopathically  or  astrologically,  employing  a  "  clairvoy- 
ant "  woman  to  examine  his  patients  and  say  where  their 
disease  is  located,  makes  more  money  and  is  a  more  in- 
tellectual and  agreeable  man  than  any  of  his  brethren  in 
this  city !  "We  are  obliged  to  him  personally  for  several 
valuable  surgical  cases,  and  we  know  him  to  be  a  pro- 
found medical  scholar,  and  are  very  far  from  believing 
him  to  be  an  unsafe  adviser.  We  present  him  as  one 
end  of  the  moral  scale  of  medical  ethics  :  he  certainly 
meets  a  large  portion  of  the  public  requirement.  Our 
own  immediate  opponents  anathematize  us  as  an  adver- 
tiser, and  privately  say  anything  they  please  about  us, 
all  of  which  we  presume  by  this  time  they  know  to  be  of 
no  kind  of  consequence.     We  despise  the  slandering  pro- 


362         HOW  TO  TREAT  TOUR  DOCTOR. 

pensity  in  all  its  forms,  medical  or  clerical ;  we  honor 
labor,  and  believe  that  the  debasing  influence  of  politics 
and  trade  has  seriously  impaired  our  manhood,  and  pro- 
duced our  present  political  condition. 

The  question  is,  what  are  our  country  friends  to  do 
when  they  come  here  for  advice.  We  honestly  advise 
them  to  do  that  most  difficult  of  all  things,  to  shut  their 
mouths  and  their  ears.  Choose  your  adviser,  and  ad- 
dress him  as  a  gentleman  ;  do  not  try  to  cross-examine 
him  as  though  he  -were  a  thief,  and  you  another.  You 
are  quite  incapable  of  understanding  him  without  all 
your  limited  powers  of  attention.  Don't  try  to  be 
"  smart ;"  don't  ask  him  if  he  "  ever  saw  or  heard  of 
such  a  case  before."  If  you  do,  he  will  think  you  a  con- 
ceited, selfish  fool.  Don't  ask  him  to  trust  you :  if  he 
investigate  your  case  faithfully,  remember  he  does  it  for 
the  fee.  If  his  opinion  be  worth  having,  it  is  worth  pay- 
ing for.  He  has  always  quite  as  many  charity  patients 
whom  he  knows  as  he  can  conveniently  attend  to.  Never 
continue  running  to  his  house  at  daylight,  because  the 
poor  man  is  probably  asleep,  and  he  will  lose  interest  in 
your  case  if  you  persecute  him  and  his  family.  When 
you  have  had  his  opinion,  and  he  has  answered  your 
questions,  go  away  :  his  office  is  not  a  saloon  for  enter- 
tainment. Never  pick  your  teeth  nor  clean  your  nails 
when  talking  to  him.  If  you  smoke  or  chew,  do  neither 
in  his  office,  if  you  wish  him  to  consider  you  a  decent 
man.  Finally,  if  you  come  here  to  consult  a  mesmerist, 
an  herb  or  Indian  doctor,  or  an  Academy  doctor,  do  it 
with  faith,  and  do  it  only  ;  don't  distract  your  miserable 
brain  with  the  opinions  of  others.  If  you  are  not  a  read- 
ing and  thinking  man,  if  you  have  no  Encyclopaedia  at 
home,  and  must  depend  upon  your  own  poor  judgment 
or  that  of  a  doctor  who  has  no  head  nor  library,  and  if 


HOW  TO  TREAT  YOUR  DOCTOE.  363 

you  believe  that  the  man  you  are  determined  to  consult 
can  cure  you,  try  him  in  Heaven's  name  ;  swallow  his 
physic,  even  if  he  pour  eleven  kinds  into  one  tumbler  ; 
he  will  not  probably  kill  you  on  the  spot,  for  that  would 
be  very  foolish  ;  and  these  people  are  always,  as  Bacon 
says  "of  the  ant,  "  wise  creatures  for  themselves."  They 
want  you  to  live  as  long  as  possible,  so  that  you  may 
take  and  pay  for  at  least  a  hundred  bottles,  perhaps  two, 
and  then  when  death  does  come  you  will  die  happier, 
because  you  at  least  had  your  own  way,  and  did  not  geb 
kicked  and  cuffed  into  some  one  else's  path  who  knew 
no  more  than  yourself.  You  can  do  no  more  than  use 
the  brains  God  has  given  you,  and  we  have  generally 
noticed  those  who  have  the  smallest  stock,  enjoy  the  un- 
controlled use  of  them  with  the  greatest  zest. 


THE  LIFE  FORCE. 


DISEASES  OP  DEFECTIVE  NUTRITION  IN  THE  YOUNG  GIRL— CAN  MEDICINE  CURE 
SCROFULA  OR  PULMONARY  CONSUMPTION  ?— HAS  IT  ANY  INFLUENCE  ON  SPINAL 
DISEASE  OR  DISEASES  OF  THE  JOINTS?— WHAT  SHOULD  BE  DONE  FOR  THEM? 

"Air  is  the  first  and  last  want  of  our  animal  iife ; 
Our  first  sigh  and  last  gasp  attest  its  power."— Scalpel. 

Man  is  born  with  a  certain  amount  of  life-force,  or 
capacity  to  live  ;  this  he  inherits  from  one  or  both  of  his 
parents,  or  from  their  parents.  It  often  shows  itself  in 
early  youth  or  manhood  to  be  of  a  higher  or  lower  type 
than  that  of  either  parent,  when  infancy  gives  no  hint  of 
its  future  degree  ;  it  will  be  found  however  that  the  bodily 
and  mental  condition  of  the  mother  during  gestation,  has 
much  to  do  with  the  bodily  condition  and  constitu- 
tional or  life-force  of  the  child  she  biings  forth.  The  size 
and  beauty  of  an  infant  at  birth  is  a  good  criterion  of  its 
intra-uterine  condition  ;  the  organic  law  continues  its 
control  whilst  the  mother  is  nourishing  it  with  her  blood, 
but  the  moment  it  is  born,  an  entirely  new  and  precari- 
ous condition  surrounds  it ;  all  depends  upon  the  hu- 
manity and  intellect  of  its  attendants  ;  its  clothing,  its 
food,  its  mental  condition,  every  moment  rests  upon  the 
intelligence  of  its  mother  ;  on  her  alone  depends  its  ex- 
istence, and  in  a  great  degree  its  constitution  or  life- 
force. 

The  numerous  articles  on  the  organic  laws  of  our 


THE  LIFE    FORCE.  365 

existence,  on  gestation,  nursing  and  infantile  diseases, 
scrofula  and  marriage,  scattered  throughout  the  twelve 
volumes  of  this  journal,  forbid  us  to  amplify  on  those 
subjects  in  this  article  ;  what  we  design  at  present  is  to 
show  the  absurdity  of  medical  treatment  in  scrofulous 
diseases,  and  the  necessity  of  more  air,  warmth,  and 
food,  for  those  laboring  under  a  defect  in  the  original 
constitution,  or  disease  ingrafted  on  the  young,  by  de- 
fective nutrition. 

The  impossibility  of  treating  effectively  tubercular  or 
scrofulous  affections  of  the  bones,  diseases  of  the  hip  and 
knee  joints,  abscesses  and  curvature  of  the  spine,  and 
delay  in  the  establishment  of  the  menstrual  functions, 
without  pure  air  and  great  increase  in  the  quantity  of 
food  consumed,  is  now  thoroughly  understood  by  all 
intelligent  people. 

Medicine  can  never  add  material  to  the  body.  It  can- 
not heal  an  ulcer  in  the  lungs  or  spine  ;  it  cannot  effect 
the  absorption  of  the  tubercles  which  cause  it ;  it  cannot 
straighten  a  curved  spine  or  leg,  or  give  blood  to  the 
feeble  girl ;  nor  can  the  most  perfect  mechanism  impart 
natural  strength  or  tone  to  the  muscles  that  support  the 
spine  or  move  the  limb.  Medicines  are  generally  inert, 
and  too  often  injurious ;  they  destroy  appetite  and 
digestion,  which  is  the  source  of  strength.  Mechanical 
appliances  are  only  useful  adjuvants  to  take  off  the 
weight  from  the  diseased  part,  and  to  aid  the  effect  of  a 
surgical  operation,  or  what  is  far  better,  to  prevent  its 
necessity. 

There  is  no  true  tonic  but  pure  air  ;  there  is  no  ma- 
terial of  repair  but  blood.  In  all  diseases  originating  in 
a  low  condition  of  the  vital  force,  more  air  must  be 
breathed,  that  more  food  may  be  consumed,  or  the  red 
blood  that  makes  and  gives  tone  to  the  muscles  that  sup- 


366  MEDICINE  USELESS. 

port  the  spine  will  not  be  supplied,  the  scrofulous  tuber- 
cle will  not  be  absorbed,  nor  will  the  ulcer  heal. 

All  the  food  that  we  eat,  however  varied,  whether 
animal  or  vegetable,  is  changed  by  the  stomach  and  the 
first  division  of  the  intestine  into  one  substance — ALBU- 
MEN ;  and  yet  albumen  is  the  basis  of  scrofula  and 
tubercular  consumption,  and  the  chief  cause  of  spinal 
ulceration  and  ulceration  of  the  joints. 

A  few  hours  after  each  meal,  all  the  food  consumed  is 
found  in  the  upper  intestine,  just  below  the  stomach,  in 
the  form  of  a  liquid  milky  substance  called  chyme  ;  it 
spreads  over  the  surface  of  this  intestine,  which  is  cov- 
ered by  a  vast  number  of  open-mouthed  little  vessels 
called  lacteals,  because  they  appear  as  though  filled  with 
milk  ;  these  all  concentrate  in  one  small  vessel  that  goes 
up  through  the  chest,  behind  the  lungs,  to  the  base  and 
on  the  left  side  of  the  neck ;  here  this  single  vessel,  no 
thicker  than  a  crow-quill,  and  carrying  every  particle  of 
food  that  we  eat  in  the  form  of  liquid  albumen  or  white 
blood,  now  called  chyle,  as  yet  unmixed  with  air,  enters 
directly  into  the  angle  formed  by  the  great  jugular  vein 
of  the  left  side  of  the  neck,  and  the  principal  vein  of  the 
left  arm  ;  these  two  veins  unite,  and  the  chyle,  thus  min- 
gled with  the  great  mass  of  red  blood  returning  from  the 
body,  goes  directly  into  the  heart,  whence  at  least  two 
ounces  of  it  is  forced  into  the  lungs  at  every  beat  of  the 
right  cavity  of  that  great  hollow  muscle,  and  mingled 
with  the  life-giving  oxygen.  In  health,  when  breathing 
regularly,  the  heart  contracts  and  fills  the  lungs  four 
times  to  each  respiration. 

Now  the  reader  will  observe  that  it  is  only  when  this 
blood,  thus  mingled — white  or  new  blood — as  yet  con- 
taining no  oxygen,  and  old  impure  purple  blood,  con- 
tinually brought  back  from  the  body,  where  it  has  been 


WHAT  IS  TUBERCLE?  367 

performing  all  its  wonderful  functions  of  growth  and 
repair — it  is  only  when  this  mixed  blood  and  chyle  re- 
ceives  all  the  air  it  requires,  that  it  can  acquire  and 
preserve  its  healthful  red  color.     In  consumptive  persons, 
portions  of  unassimilated  chyle  or  albumen — i.  e.,  albu- 
men not  properly  mixed  with  air,  are  deposited  in  the 
tissues  of  the  lungs,  which  are  of  course  formed  and 
nourished  by  blood,  lite  all  the  rest  of  the  body  ;  these 
portions  of  albumen  are   like  small  masses   of  cheese  ; 
they  have  neither  blood-vessels  nor  nerves,  and  will  in 
time  produce  irritation  and  ulceration  like  a  splinter  in 
the  flesh.     These  tubercular  masses  are  often   also  de- 
posited in  the  vertebra  of  the  spinal  column,  sometimes 
in  the  glands  of  the  neck,  in  the  belly  and  brain,  and  in 
the  end3  of  the  long  bones  of  the  thigh,  causing  "  King's 
Evil,"  consumption  of  the  bowels,  and  tubercles  on  the 
membranes  of  the  brain,  and  white  swelling  of  the  joints  ; 
all  these   diseases   are  utterly  incurable   by  medicine  ; 
they  produce  either  death   or  deformity,  or  loss  of  the 
limb. 

Had  the  mixed  blood  received  all  the  air  it  required,  it 
would  have  continued  the  great  round  or  circuit  of  the 
heart  and  blood-vessels,  and  been  used  to  form  all  the 
healthy  tissues  in  the  lungs,  neck,  bones,  brain  and  belly  ; 
no  tubercle  would  have  been  deposited  in  any  of  them. 
The  reader  will  here  please  carefully  to  observe  the  re- 
markable fact,  that  this  wonderful  little  vessel,  the  chyle- 
duct,  enters  at  an  angle  formed  by  two  veins  which  go 
directly  into  the  heart — the  heart  is  the  great  engine 
that  supplies  the  lungs — and  not  into  the  angle  of  two 
arteries,  which  vessels  carry  the  pure  or  aerated  blood 
out  from  the  heart  to  perform  its  great  duties  of  repro- 
duction and  repair  all  over  the  body  ;  the  albumen  must 
first  go  through  the  lungs. 
16* 


368  CAUSES  OP  SCROFULA. 

Only  see,  reader,  what  a  startling  proof  we  derive  of 
the  cause  of  tubercular  diseases  from  the  domestic  ani- 
mals ;  cows  in  confinement  and  fed  upon  poor  and 
watery  food,  cats,  dogs,  confined  pigeons,  monkeys  and 
parrots,  often  die  of  tubercular  or  scrofulous  consump- 
tion of  the  lungs  and  bowels ;  wild  ones,  when  not 
maimed  so  as  to  prevent  free  exercise  and  food — never. 
There  is  no  such  thing  as  tubercle  ever  found  in  the 
bodies  of  wild  birds  that  are  used  for  food.  Their  tem- 
perature is  from  four  to  six  degrees  hotter  than  the 
human  body  (they  fly  rapidly  and  they  eat  enormously  of 
stimulating  grains  and  animal  food,)  and  from  ten  to 
twenty  above  that  of  a  feeble,  pale  girl !  "We  always  say 
when  speaking  of  such  a  one,  "  she  is  lymphatic  ;"  the 
lymph  (chyle)  or  albumen,  predominates  ;  she  has  cold 
hands  and  feet  ;  eats  little,  and  breathes  rapidly  with 
only  a  portion  of  her  lungs. 

City  life  fosters  scrofulous  complaints  ;  in  all  classes 
of  society,  where  large  sleeping  apartments,  cheerful 
amusements  and  highly  nutritious  food  can  be  constantly 
enjoyed,  if  scrofula  be  not  born  with  the  child  and  inher- 
ited either  from  parents  or  grand-parents,  or  if  it  be  not 
developed  by  a  vicious  system  of  education,  the  children 
will  be  found  to  enjoy  a  good  prospect  for  life.  It  is  to 
the  melancholy  emulation  of  our  middle  and  lower  classes 
of  the  vices  of  city  society,  and  the  hot-bed  forcing  of 
the  female  mind  in  our  small  villages  and  country  towns, 
to  secure  the  imaginary  luxuries  derivable  from  wealthy 
city  alliances,  that  one  half  the  scrofulous  affections  are 
due. 

Scrofula  may  be  educated  and  lived  down  ;  it  is  often 
done  by  the  brother  who  is  jostled  and  perhaps  kicked 
about  the  world,  whilst  the  sister  dies — suffocated  and 
starved  by  unhealthy  blood  at  home.     The   precocious 


EDUCATION  FOSTERS   SCROFULA.  369 

education  of  the  passions  by  our  vicious  system  of  educa- 
tion, parental  aspirations  for  premature  marriages,  the 
confined  atmosphere  of  the  chamber  and  schoolroom, 
late  hours  and  badly  compounded  food  taken  at  improper 
hours — witness  that  deadly  institution,  the  mid-day 
lunch  of  cake  and  sweetmeats — insufficient  clothing  to 
protect  the  half  blood  nourished  body — thin  shoes — 
these  are  the  causes  of  the  terrible  frequency  of  consump- 
tion and  spinal  complaints,  in  short  of  the  "  Early  Decay 
of  American  Women." — Scalpel. 

There  is  too  much  free  or  unassimilated  albumen  ;  the 
young  girl  does  not  breathe  slowly,  deeply  enough — she 
breathes  only  with  the  top  of  her  lungs — and  here  she  is 
never  sufficiently  clothed.  This  is  the  place  where  con- 
gestion and  tubercle  almost  always  occur.  Here,  an 
atmospheric  injury  is  inflicted,  and  tubercle  is  deposited. 
In  the  spine  or  knee,  some  mechanical  injury — as  a  fall 
from  inattention  of  a  careless  nurse,  or  from  the  shock- 
ing and  dangerous  swing,  perhaps  a  blow  from  a  play- 
mate— causes  congestion  and  slow  ulceration,  and  we 
often  trace  the  origin  of  the  disease  to  a  mechanical 
cause  ;  but  always  in  such  cases,  the  blood  is  starved  of 
its  healthful  red  particles  that  only  can  be  produced  by 
enough  air  and  food  to  keep  it  moving  and  make  all  parts 
of  the  body  alike  strong. 

There  is  a  very  fatal  error  in  regard  to  exercise.  It 
can  never  benefit  when  carried  to  the  fatigue  point  in  any 
young  person.  The  laboring  man  endures  it,  but  for  the 
most  part  he  dies  in  middle  life  and  of  congestive  com- 
plaints ;  the  young  girl  or  school-boy  of  healthy  stock 
outgrows  it ;  but  the  feeble,  and  the  precocious  in  brain 
and  body,  die  of  convulsions  or  tubercle,  or  dropsy  of  the 
head.  No  one  can  tell  precisely  when  latent  tubercle  in 
the  lungs  or  joints  will  ulcerate,  or  when  the  blood- ves- 


370  CHILDREN  KILLED   BY  FRIGHT. 

Bels  of  the  brain  will  give  way,  and  convulsions  and 
death  in  a  chill  will  occur  ;  they  will  appear  as  soon  as 
the  blood  is  poor  enough.  Poor  blood  makes  weak  or 
porous  blood-vessels. 

The  latter  disease  is  as  fatal  as  scrofula  or  tubercle  ; 
for  it  is  a  constant  attendant  on  defective  nutrition  of  the 
blood-vessels  of  children's  brains  ;  from  want  of  health- 
ful contractility  in  the  tissues,  the  albuminous  or  white 
blood  is  allowed  to  percolate  through  their  sides  and 
oppress  the  brain,  producing  convulsions  as  in  teething  ; 
anything  that  excites  the  brain  may  by  over  action  pro- 
duce this  result,  whether  irritation  of  the  temper  or  a 
blow  or  fall.  Mr.  Beecher,  in  one  of  his  exquisite 
sketches,  has  given  an  admirable  idea  of  the  effect  on 
the  disposition,  of  a  blow  from  a  brutal  teacher  on  the 
head,  conventionally  called  boxing  the  ears  ;  thousands 
of  children  have  been  thus  killed.  Who  has  not  known 
fright  to  produce  convulsions  in  a  child  ?  We  have  seen 
a  boy  violently  convulsed,  and  distinct  squinting  pro- 
duced, under  the  lash  of  a  brutal  schoolmaster,  and  he 
ended  his  days  in  a  mad-house.  Most  of  our  school 
discipline  is  debasing  or  murderous.  The  foul  atmo- 
sphere of  the  school-room  irritates  the  nerves  of  both 
teacher  and  scholar. 

We  may  judge  of  the  approach  of  tubercle  in  this  way  : 
The  child  or  young  girl  is  exhausted  after  the  walk  ; 
they  say  they  are  tired,  and  He  down  perhaps  on  the 
floor  ;  then  they  say  the  hip,  some  part  of  the  spine,  or 
the  knee  "  hurts  them." 

Flushing  of  the  face,  short  breath  and  delayed  men- 
struation, is  evidence  of  starvation  of  red  blood  ;  tubercle 
threatens. 

A  child,  or  young  girl  or  boy  thus  affected,  should 
have  their  entire  course  of  life  changed  ;  medicine  can 


SYMPTOMS  OF  TUBEKCLE.  371 

do  no  possible  good.  If  you  do  not  give  more  rest  and 
less  study,  and  place  them  under  such  circumstances 
that  all  the  vital  and  organic  forces  can  be  raised,  they 
will  soon  break  somewhere. 

Tubercles  are  not  organized  ;  they  have  neither  nerves 
nor  blood-vessels  ;  they  form  no  part  of  the  living  body  ; 
as  soon  as  the  vital  force  of  the  young  person  sinks  to  a 
point  low  enough,  they  act  precisely  like  a  splinter  in  the 
flesh  ;  they  produce  ulceration  of  the  lung  or  bone,  and 
are  thus  coughed  up  by  making  their  way  into  the  wind- 
pipe, or  ulcerating  through  the  vertebra  or  the  joints. 
In  this  struggle,  fever  and  night  sweats  reduce  the  body 
and  life  is  lost,  or  amputation  or  deformity  ensues,  and 
crippled  nature  shows  what  she  might  have  done  with 
the  aid  she  demands.  Air  and  food  produce  heat ;  life  is 
warm,  death  is  cold.  The  seed  germinates  by  sunlight, 
warmth,  air  and  moisture  ;  then,  if  supplied  with  the 
necessary  material  elements,  it  selects  its  food,,  lives  and 
becomes  a  healthy  plant ;  it  produces  its  fruit,  pays  its 
contingent  to  the  earth  in  the  fall  of  the  leaf,  and  sleeps 
till  the  life-giving  sun  again  asserts  its  power,  and 
awakens  the  bud  or  the  seed  to  its  new  round  of  life. 
Air  is  the  first  and  last  want  of  our  bodies.  Our  first  cry 
and  last  gasp  attest  its  power.  The  lungs  are  the  two 
fire-places  of  the  system  ;  air  is  the  fuel ;  the  fire  smoul- 
ders in  the  air-tight  stove  till  the  valve  is  raised,  when  it 
bursts  into  flame  ;  air,  food,  sleep  and  the  cheerful 
emotion*,  are  the  only  restoratives  to  exhausted  nerves 
and  blood-vessels. 

The  reader's  attention  is  directed  in  connection  with 
this  subject  to  the  articles  in  past  numbers  of  the  Scalpel 
on  Scrofula  as  the  consequences  of  unphysiological  mar- 
riages. 


THE  CAUSES  OF  THE  WAR. 


God  is  not  a  liar  :  liberty  is  the  organic  law.  The 
blade  of  grass,  the  giant  oak,  the  little  shrew  mouse,  and 
the  mighty  elephant,  are  born  free.  The  organic  law  of 
their  existence  demands  the  same  air,  and  uses  the  same 
elements  to  produce  the  sap  and  the  blood  which  form 
their  bodies.  "  God  made  of  one  blood  all  the  nations  of 
the  earth  ;"  the  organic  elements  are  identical ;  the  form 
and  the  color  differ.  Absolute  freedom  of  respiration 
will  alone  insure  the  full  action  of  the  heart.  Do  you 
suppose,  poor,  foolish,  thoughtless,  cotton  and  sugar 
trading  man  of  the  North,  that  the  Creator  gave  any 
consciousness  of  slavery  to  the  child  of  the  black  man  ? 
or  do  you,  ignorant  Southern  man,  after  you  have  put  at 
naught  that  other  organic  law,  that  the  black  and  white 
shall  not  mingle  their  blood,  without  deteriorating  and 
weakening  the  bodies  of  the  offspring,  that  your  own 
child,  when  its  feeble  white  mother's  breast  fails  to  sup- 
ply it,  because  she  is  broken  down  by  your  dissipation 
your  tobacco,  your  vile  whisky  and  your  licentiousness, 
and  you  put  it  to  the  breast  of  a  yellow  woman,  do  you 
suppose — poor  fool ! — that  you  can  bend  the  organic  law 
to  your  will  ?  No  ;  your  child  imbibes  a  weaker  organ- 
ism with  the  milk  of  its  mongrel  foster-mother,  and  a 
licentious  temperament  both  from  you  and  her.  "When 
the  passions  are  fostered,  it  is  at  the  expense  of  the  in- 
tellect ;  the  functional  activity  of  the  sexual  organs  is 


THE  CAUSES  OP  THE  WAR.  373 

increased,  and  licentiousness  is  ingrafted  on  the  child. 
Oh  !  how  silly  it  sounds  to  hear  a  miserable  tobacco  and 
whisky-poisoned  creature,  with   a  yellow,  sodden  face, 
talk  of  slavery  ! — "  God-ordained "  slavery,  the   corner- 
stone of  a  government ! — Oh,  ignorant,  stupid,  licentious 
wretch! — or  a  Northern  trading  parasite   say,  "What 
shall  we  do  with  the  niggers  ?"     Poor  miserable  creature ! 
what  will  you  do  with  the  Almighty?    The  South  has 
had  him  on  trial  for  eighty-five  years  ;  they  have  found 
him  guilty,  and  now  they  are  trying  to  punish  him !     The 
debasing  influence  of  trade  has  produced  this  war  ;  the 
Northern   dough-face   hypocrite   has   submitted  to  the 
autocratic  temperament  which  is  born  of  slavery,  till  it 
has  culminated  in  an  awful  war ;  all  the  vile  conse- 
quences of  trade,  slavery  and  political  villainy  are  seeth- 
ing in  the  mighty  cauldron  of  rebellion.     God  grant  that 
the  scum  and  the  filth  may  be  cleared  off,  and  human 
nature  be  purified.     This  war  originated  in  the  abuse  of 
God  and  man.     The  South  must  be  civilized,  the  North- 
ern trader  and  politician  must  be  purified,  and  England's 
vile  aristocracy  must  be  humbled.     The  white  man  is  de- 
based when  he  sells  the  incestuous  product  of  his  own 
blood  for  a  harlot ;  the  slave-trader  is  accursed  of  God 
when  he  steals  and  sells  the  African  ;   and  the  world 
stinks  with  the  hypocrisy  of  England,  and  weeps  at  her 
down-trodden  millions.     God  must  be  justified ;  Christ 
must  be  heeded  ;  Man  must  be  elevated,  or  this  country 
must  be  destroyed. 

As  the  body,  corrupted  by  the  most  loathsome  disease, 
is  purified  by  the  earth,  and  when  its  elements  are  set 
free  it  arises  in  beautiful  forms,  so  may  this  war  purify 
the  moral  and  social  atmosphere,  and  make  us  a  great, 
united  and  happy  people. 


THE   CONSUMPTION-CURER. 


Like  a  vulture,  hovering  over  the  battle-field,  eager 
to  gorge  upon  the  human  prey  ere  the  last  sigh  has  es- 
caped the  expiring  victim,  this  miserable  creature  con- 
tinues his  heartless  robberies.  The  public  papers  have 
announced  him  the  possessor  of  two  aliases,  and  we  have 
repeatedly  been  asked  why  our  pages  have  been  closed 
against  the  exposition  of  his  nefarious  practices.  Our 
answer  may  be  found  in  our  last  number  ;  the  article  on 
the  nature  and  prevention  of  consumption  was  the  best 
weapon  we  could  use  against  the  cold-blooded  miscreant. 
It  brought  down  his  wrath  upon  us,  and  showed  that  he 
felt  it  where  such  creatures  are  most  sensitive — in  the 
pocket.  We  urged  upon  some  of  our  editorial  friends 
the  propriety  of  giving  the  article  a  more  extensive  cir- 
culation, but  his  money  has  closed  their  hearts  and 
opened  their  columns.  It  is  sad,  but  too  true,  that  most 
of  our  editors  cannot  afford  to  be  independent ;  the 
wretched  thirst  for  sickly  romance  and  prurient  and  ex- 
citing paragraphs,  makes  these  more  desirable  reading 
than  the  most  awful  and  important  truths  of  the  science 
of  life.  Whilst  the  intellect  is  thus  weakened,  both  the 
body  and  mind  are  prepared  for  the  operations  of  quack- 
ery. And  the  same  agent  that  has  filled  the  measure  of 
their  mental  requirements,  conveys  to  the  feeble  percep- 
tion, by  its  deceitful  columns,  the  fancied  cure  for  their 
bodily  infirmities.    How  far  the  daily  press  have  earned 


THE    CONSUMPTION-CURER.  375 

a  place  by  the  side  of  Judas,  by  lending  their  columns 
for  money  to  the  impostor,  and  refusing  to  insert  a  rem- 
edy in  the  shape  of  popular  instruction,  let  others  decide. 
We  cannot  but  compare  them  to  wolves,  watching  for 
such  share  of  the  prey  as  the  hovering  vulture  may  leave 
when  he  has  satiated  himself  with  the  loathsome  repast. 
Meanwhile  the  soulless  Jackal  is  still  busy  in  receiving 
his  month's  wages  for  his  inhaling  remedies — the  price 
of  a  coffin  and  a  shroud. 


PRINCE  MUM'S  DEFENCE. 


Peince  Mttkat,  one  of  the  Bonaparte  family,  lived  near 
Bordentown,  in  New  Jersey,  and  being  in  a  false  position 
amongst  republicans,  the  lower  class  of  his  neighbors, 
when  employed  by  him,  took  great  pains  to  let  him 
know  that  every  one  was  equal  in  New  Jersey,  i.  e.,  that 
every  one  could  do  just  as  they  pleased  with  him. 

Murat  was  a  very  gentlemanly,  good-natured  man,  of 
enormous  size,  some  six  feet  two,  and  stout  in  propor- 
tion, and  accustomed  to  severe  exercise  ;  he  would  shoot 
all  day  in  a  monstrous  pair  of  boots,  going  through  mo- 
rasses that  would  appall  any  sportsman  but  himself  and 
Dr.  Dewees,  our  accomplished  contributor,  who  used 
often  to  shoot  with  him. 

The  Prince  had  employed  a  worthless  fellow  to  groom 
his  horses.  One  day  he  very  civilly  requested  him,  as 
was  his  constant  custom,  for  he  was  very  polite,  to  do 
something.  The  man  flatly  refused,  and  was  so  very 
insolent  that  Murat  with  his  awful  boot  suddenly  helped 
him  to  the  middle  of  a  barn-yard  pool.  As  a  matter  of 
course,  the  fellow  sued  him  for  assault  and  battery,  con- 
fidently anticipating  a  handsome  sum  of  damages.  The 
court  room  was  filled  with  a  very  select  audience,  includ- 
ing many  ladies  ;  for  Murat  was  highly  esteemed  for 
his  elegant  manners  and  commanding  person.  It  was 
understood  that  he  was  to  plead  his  own  case,  and  as  he 
was  extremely  acute  and  quite  learned,  great  sport  was 


pbince  mubat's  defence.  377 

anticipated.  The  fellow  too  was  provided  with  Trilling 
evidence,  as  was  supposed,  and  Murat,  it  seemed,  had 
little  to  hope  for.  On  examination  he  was  confident  of 
having  received  as  many  as  six  violent  kicks  from  Murat, 
and  in  short  of  having  been  grievously  afflicted  and  mis- 
used. Murat  demanded  that  he  should  show  the  precise 
spot  where  the  bodily  injury  was  inflicted ;  he  en- 
deavored to  evade  the  demand,  but  the  Prince  insisted  ; 
he  accordingly  indicated  the  very  lowest  possible  part  of 
the  spine,  and  again  and  again  asserted  that  Murat 
kicked  him  six  times.  Here  the  defence  rested,  and  the 
prosecuting  attorney  made  a  powerful  appeal,  filled  with 
"  the  sacred  rights  of  the  meanest  citizen,"  "  monarchical 
oppression,"  "  star-spangled  banner, "  etc.  etc.,  but  not  a 
word  of  the  vulgar  insolence  nor  dishonesty  of  the 
laborer,  who  always  demands  his  full  pay,  whether  a  thief 
and  a  liar  or  as  indolent  as  a  sloth.  Murat  addressed 
the  jury  in  the  following  conclusive  style,  which  we 
cordially  recommend  to  our  doctors,  lawyers,  and  jury- 
men, for  its  convincing  use  of  anatomical  knowledge  and 
its  humor. 

Bowing  profoundly  to  the  bench  and  jury-box,  which 
happened  both  to  be  filled  with  excellent  common  sense, 
he  said  :  "  My  lord,  de  judge,  and  gentlemen  of  de  jury, 
dere  has  been  great  efforts  and  much  troubles  to  make 
everybody  believe  me  a  very  bad  man  ;  but  dat  is  no 
consequence.  De  man  tells  you  I  kick  him  six  times! 
six  times!  so  low  down  as  posseeble.  I  very  sorry  of  de 
necessity  to  make  him  show  how  low  it  vas,  but  I  could 
not  avoid  it.  Now,  my  lord,  and  gentlemen  of  the  jury, 
you  see  dis  part  of  de  human  skeleton,  (taking  from  the 
enormous  pocket  of  his  hunting  coat  a  very  remarkable 
specimen  of  the  human  pelvis  with  the  os  coccygis  com- 
plete and  articulated  with  wires ;)  here  are  de  bones ; 


378  PRINCE  murat's  defence. 

dese  leetle  bones  vot  you  see  here,  (shaking  them  to  the 
jury  like  the  end  of  a  rattlesnake's  tail,)  dese  leetle  bones 
are  in  de  very  place  vere  de  tail  of  de  animal  shall  grow  ; 
dat  is  to  say,  if  de  man  who  sue  me  vere  to  be  a  veritaa- 
ble  jack — vot  you  call  it — ah !  jack-horse,  and  not  only 
very  much  resemble  dat  animal,  vy  you  see  dese  leetle 
bones,  if  dey  vere  long  enough,  would  be  his  tail!"  The 
court  was  convulsed  with  laughter,  and  the  Prince  being 
extremely  acute,  and  knowing  he  had  the  best  of  it,  drew 
his  speech  to  an  end  by  stretching  out  his  enormous  leg, 
armed  with  his  shooting  boot  up  to  his  knee,  and  clap- 
ping his  hand  on  his  massive  thigh  so  that  it  resounded 
through  the  court-room,  exclaimed,  "  My  lord,  and  gen- 
tlemen, how  absurd  to  say  I  could  give  him  even  von 
kick  vid  dat,  and  not  break  all  to  pieces  his  tail!"  It 
was  some  time  before  the  judge  could  gather  enough 
dignity  to  sum  up,  when  the  fellow  got  six  cents  dam- 
ages, and  the  Prince  three  cheers. 


SYMPATHETIC  NATURE  OF  DISEASE. 


DISEASES  OP  THE  RECTUM,  BLADDER  AND  UTERUS — THEIR  POWER  TO  SIMULATE 
DISEASE  IN  OTHER  PARTS  OF  THE  BODY — CONCEALED  ABSCESS  OP  THE  RECTUM 
—ITS  SYMPTOM,  ITCHING  ;  OFTEN  PRODUCTIVE  OF  FISTULA. 

The  Sacrum  is  that  triangular  bone  on  which  rests  the 
spinal  column  of  man.  It  is  the  central  bone  of  three 
that  form  the  Pelvis  or  basin  of  the  skeleton,  that  bony 
chamber  that  contains  the  bladder,  the  seminal  vesicles 
and  rectum  or  lower  bowel  in  man  ;  and  the  former  and 
latter  organs,  with  the  uterus  and  its  ovaria  or  egg-beds 
in  woman. 

The  sacrum  is  the  key  stone  of  the  arch  that  supports 
our  intellectual,  respiratory  and  digestive  apparatus, 
with  the  bony  structures  that  contain  and  protect  them, 
and  the  powerful  muscles  that  move  the  body  on  its  three 
pivots,  the  sacrum  and  thigh  bones.  The  nerves  that 
give  sensitiveness  and  power  to  the  procreative  organs, 
and  the  two  closing  muscles  of  the  bladder  and  rectum, 
and  send  to  the  brain  a  knowledge  of  the  wants  and  con- 
dition of  these  two  great  waste  gates,  that  may  be  called 
the  janitors  of  the  body,  pass  through  holes  in  the  ante- 
rior part  of  this  bone  to  reach  the  organs  they  govern. 

The  re-productive  and  pelvic  organs,  indicate  so 
absolutely  our  power  in  carrying  out  all  the  great  moral 


380  PHYSIOGNOMY  OF  PELVIC  DISEASES. 

and  physical  objects  of  our  existence,  that  their  health- 
ful or  diseased  condition  may  be  said  emphatically  to 
measure  our  powers  as  men  and  women.  So  absolutely 
do  they  control  the  expression  of  the  face  and  the  action 
of  the  body,  that  the  acute  practical  surgeon  can  gener- 
ally judge  the  degree  of  their  diseased  condition,  as  the 
unknown  victim  passes  him  in  the  street.  This  should 
excite  no  surprise  :  if  the  Creator  in  His  great  plan 
chose  to  make  these  organs  the  agents  by  which  redund- 
ant life  was  to  be  evolved,  to  give  almost  that  attribute 
in  which  we  come  nearest  Him — creative  power — surely 
the  face  and  action  of  its  possessor  should  indicate  the 
God-like  boon.  Our  vicious  system  of  society,  with  the 
total  destitution  of  physiological  knowledge,  has  so  fos- 
tered the  premature  exercise  of  the  sexual  functions,  that 
the  attendant  diseases  have  very  seriously  impaired  the 
physique  and  gait  of  great  numbers  of  our  people.  One 
has  only  to  compare  the  bright  and  speculative  mirthful 
eye,  the  upraised  head,  the  backward  curve  of  the  spinal 
column,  and  the  firm  yet  quick  elastic  step  of  a  man  or 
woman  in  whom  the  pelvic  organs  are  in  health,  with  the 
victim  of  personal  abuse,  Haemorrhoids  or  Piles,  Pro- 
lapsus of  the  Womb,  or  Rectum,  Rupture,  or  Varicocele, 
to  see  at  a  glance  the  difference.  To  this  the  surgeon 
adds  a  practical  observation  of  the  facial  muscles  indica- 
tive of  irritation  and  pain  in  some  one  of  the  pelvic 
viscera,  and  the  peculiarity  of  step  from  the  irritable 
spinal  nerves,  which  supply  motor  messengers  to  the 
muscles  moving  the  lower  limbs,  and  he  can  form  very 
generally  a  correct  idea  of  the  nature  erf  the  affection  ; 
we  cannot  take  a  single  step  without  bringing  the  pres- 
sure of  every  muscle  that  steadies  the  body  directly  upon 
the  contents  of  the  pelvis  ;  the  brain  takes  cognizance  of 
the  attendant  pain  and  weariness,  and  the  body  expresses 


PHYSIOGNOMY  OF  PELVIC  DISEASES.  381 

it  in  its  every  action.  The  extensive  prevalence  of  these 
diseases  is  very  little  understood ;  four-fifths  of  all 
chronic  affections  originate  in  the  exhaustion  produced 
by  some  disease  of  the  Pelvic  organs. 

No  department  of  surgery  more  completely  illustrates 
the  folly  of  the  American  people  in  their  insane  devotion 
to  business  and  sensuous  indulgence,  than  that  of  the 
diseases  of  the  Pelvic  viscera.  It  is  by  infinite  odds  the 
most  responsible  and  important  branch  of  the  science. 
The  Rectum,  the  Urethra,  the  Bladder  and  its  append- 
ages, the  Uterus  and  the  Ovaria,  not  only  allow  the 
widest  field  for  observation  of  the  diseases  of  artificial 
life,  but  their  re-action  on  the  mind  affords  the  most 
comprehensive  insight  into  a  series  of  nervous  affections 
in  other  parts  of  the  body,  utterly  unintelligible  without 
a  knowledge  of  the  diseases  of  these  organs.  None  in- 
deed but  a  very  ignorant  person,  or  a  designing  and 
zealous  pill-giver  and  opponent  of  popular  instruction, 
will  attempt  to  deny  the  importance  of  this  department 
of  our  profession.  But  there  is  a  great  evil  in  the  popu- 
lar belief,  that  it  constitutes  a  distinct  branch,  and  can 
be  pursued  with  no  regard  to  other  parts  of  the  body  ; 
when  an  educated  man  has  had  the  opportunity  of  ob- 
serving these  diseases  for  many  years  in  every  variety 
that  vice,  folly,  and  hereditary  misfortune  produces,  he 
almost  unavoidably  falls  into  the  habit  of  classifying  his 
patients  the  moment  he  first  beholds  them.  He  has 
gained  a  degree  of  quickness  in  the  expression  of  the 
face  and  the  general  action  of  the  body,  as  indicative  of 
the  existing  disease,  that  makes  him  dogmatic  in  his 
mode  of  questioning  his  patients.  This  is  unfortunate 
both  for  the  patient  and  the  surgeon.  The  former,  know- 
ing nothing  of  the  structure  and  wonderful  sympathies 
of  the  diseased  parts  with  some  other  portion  of  his 


382  SYMPATHIES  OF  DISEASE. 

body,  cannot  see  the  connection  between  the  organ  from 
which  he  supposes  all  his  troubles  proceed,  and  some 
local  pelvic  disease  in  which  the  surgeon  knows  the  dis- 
ease to   originate.     The   patient   may  have  nervous   or 
partial  headache,  be  partially  deaf,  experience  loss  of 
memory,  have  sudden  fits  of  partial  blindness,  palpita- 
tion of  the  heart,  weariness  in  the  loins,  pain  in  the 
thigh,  or  instep,  etc.,  etc.     When  the   surgeon,  after  a 
few  questions,  insists  on  examining  the  rectum,  urethra, 
or  uterus,  the  patient  objects  and  is  dissatisfied  ;  he  does 
not  believe  in  any  disease  there  ;  he  cannot  comprehend 
the  meaning  of  a  sympathetic  affection  directly  consequent 
on  an  unsuspected  disease  in  a  distant  organ  ;  he  will 
often  insist  on  a  full  detail  of  all  his  symptoms  and  feel- 
ings, with  the  domestic  and  quack  remedies  he  has  per- 
haps swallowed  for  years.     The  American  man  who  seeks 
advice,  has   either  been   isolated  from   the  wholesome 
mental  stimulus  of  society  and  study,  in  some  obscure 
village  or  farm-house,  or  he  has  been  subjected  to  such 
a  severe  and  health-crucifying  pressure  of  business  in 
some  small  town   or  village,  that  he  has  neither  mind 
nor  time  to  understand  or  listen  to  the  warnings  of  na- 
ture, far  less  to  those  of  a  skillful  conscientious  sur- 
geon ;  he  will  either   smile  incredulously   at  the  most 
serious    and    earnest    representations,   and   clamor  for 
pills  and  powders,  or  he  will  exhaust  the  patience  of  the 
surgeon  by  foolish  and  irrelevant  questions.     Tell  him, 
when  he  insists  on  relating  the  numerous  affections  in 
every  part  of  his  body,  that  every  vital  organ  is  actually 
associated  by  myriads  of  nerves  that  excite  sympathetic 
action  with  the  part  first  diseased  (and  the  great  "sym- 
pathetic system  of  nerves  "  is  visible  to  the  eye  and  is 
constantly  dissected  in  all  its  connections  by  the  anatom- 
ist,) and  he  will  smile  at  you  for  your  pedantry.     He  has 


ABSTJED  EXPECTATIONS.  383 

come  to  yon  to  buy  a  cure  for  his  disease,  as  he  would 
buy  a  coat  or  a  horse  ;  he  is  going  to  cross-examine  you 
as  he  would  a  suspected  person,  or  what  is  equally  pain- 
ful and  dispiriting  to  an  earnest  man,  he  will  blindly 
swallow  every  word  you  say  to  him,  and  submit  to  all 
you  require,  and  demand  a  cure  in  a  fixed  time,  paying 
no  regard  whatever  to  your  exaction  of  obedience  to  the 
organic  laws  of  his  existence.  He  expects  to  recover, 
and  to  eat,  drink,  smoke,  wear  thin  shoes  and  light 
clothes,  and  commit  every  vice  to  which  he  has  been 
addicted,  and  to  rely  upon  his  surgeon  for  a  cure  in  spite 
of  all  his  folly.  It  is  solely  with  the  view  of  instructing 
Buch  people  that  we  prepare  this  article.  Our  first  at- 
tempt must  be  to  show  the  extensive  sympathies  of  the 
rectum. 

Mr.  Ashton,  of  London,  in  his  carefully  studied  and 
elegant  volume  on  Kectal  Diseases,  remarks  : — "But  it 
unfortunately  happens  that  patients  too  often  from  a 
mistaken  delicacy  fail  to  ask  advice  till  the  constitution 
has  become  seriously  deranged,  or  the  local  affection  no 
longer  endurable  ;  or  it  may  be  that  under  preconceived 
and  erroneous  notions  as  to  the  nature  of  the  affection, 
or  from  the  prominence  and  severity  of  some  one  of  the 
sympathetic  effects,  the  sufferers  are  induced  to  adopt  a 
variety  of  empyrical  remedies,  which  fail  to  afford  the 
desired  relief  and  restoration  to  health,  and  which  are 
often  productive  of  the  most  pernicious  results." 

"  Few  classes  of  disease  exemplify  the  necessity  of  a 
wide  and  mature  consideration  more  than  those  impli- 
cating the  rectum  ;  the  same  symptoms  will  often  be 
found  existing  under  the  opposite  conditio  .1  of  cause  and 
effect.  Thus  in  the  female,  many  instances  have  occurred 
of  stricture  of  the  rectum  being  supposed  to  exist,  and  a 
long  and  useless  treatment  had  recourse  to,  when  ulti- 
17 


384        SYMPTOMS  IN  OTHER  PARTS  OP  THE  BODY. 

mately  all  the  patient's  sufferings  were  found  to  depend 
on  a  displaced  uterus  or  some  morbid  enlargement  or 
growth  of  that  organ  ;  on  the  other  hand,  many  females 
have  been  treated  for  leucorrhoea  or  uterine  disease, 
whilst  the  real  source  of  the  symptoms  has  been  in  some 
affection  of  the  rectum !" 

We  prefer  citing  the  high  authority  of  Mr.  Ashton,  ra- 
ther than  giving  the  result  of  our  own  experience,  because 
our  people  prefer  foreign  authority.  He  continues  :  "  In 
the  male  also  will  be  observed  stricture  of  the  urethra, 
diseases  of  the  prostate  gland  and  bladder,  simulating 
those  of  the  rectum  ;  and  diseases  of  the  alimentary 
canal,  producing  irritability  and  disturbance  of  the  gen- 
ito-urinary  organs  ;  it  is  necessary  therefore  to  bear  in 
mind  the  remote  sympathies  induced  in  the  cephalic, 
thoracic  and  abdominal  viscera  ;  as  evinced  by  headache, 
impaired  vision,  palpitations  of  the  heart,  pain  and  dis- 
tress and  sickness  in  the  stomach,  and  deranged  secre- 
tions from  kidneys,  as  exhibited  by  the  various  urinary 
deposits." 

If  we  had  space,  we  might  detail  a  vast  number  of 
cases  illustrating  all  these  contiguous  and  remote  sym- 
pathies ;  they  have  been  under  our  daily  notice  for  years. 
One  omission  of  Mr.  Ashton's  we  are  sure  is  only  an 
oversight,  viz.,  the  impaired  hearing  of  most  of  these 
people  ;  that  function  is  often  impaired  in  a  marked 
degree  in  rectal  affections,  especially  in  haemorrhoids  or 
piles  ;  not  only  does  the  discharge  exhaust  the  body  of 
blood,  but  the  prolapsus  of  the  bowel  and  stretching  of 
its  ligaments,  exhaust  the  nerve -power  by  dragging  on 
the  nerves  as  they  pass  from  the  sacrum,  and  as  our 
hearing  of  all  our  senses  depends  upon  the  most  delicate 
organization  of  the  nerves,  so  it  will  very  often  be  found 
seriously  impaired  in  persons  who  have  diseases  of  the 


FISSURE  AFFECTS  THE  URETHRA.  385 

pelvic  viscera  ;  it  is  very  often  found  in  our  own  popula- 
tion, where  tobacco  and  other  vices  have  perhaps  long 
been  preparing  the  way  for  it,  by  depressing  the  power 
of  the  entire  nervous  system.  All  diseases  that  drain  the 
system  of  blood,  matter,  serum,  or  nerve-power,  must  in 
time  affect  both  sight  and  hearing  and  memory,  and  it 
has  often  surprised  us  to  find  people  of  intelligence 
unsuspicious  of  .this  great  physiological  truth.  They 
seem  to  isolate  each  part,  and  to  forget  that  the  human 
body  is  only  in  health  when  all  its  parts  act  harmoni- 
ously ;  we  cannot  be  continually  reminded  of  the  exist- 
ence of  any  part,  unless  something  is  going  wrong  in 
that  part.  In  high  health,  the  body  acts  in  such  perfect 
harmony  in  all  its  parts,  that  we  do  not  realize  that  it  is 
made  up  of  various  organs.  To  show  the  reader  the 
importance  of  knowing  the  extent  of  local  or  near"sym- 
pathy,  we  extract  from  that  acute  observer  and  excellent 
surgeon,  Mr.  Guthrie,  of  London.  He  says  in  his  work 
on  the  anatomy  and  diseases  of  the  sexual  organs,  p.  146, 
"  The  urethra  is  often  sympathetically  affected  by  disease 
of  the  rectum,  of  so  obscure  a  nature,  that  the  patient  is 
scarcely  conscious  of  any  such  complaint.  The  sympa- 
thy which  exists  with  haemorrhoids  [piles]  is  generally 
sufficiently  marked,  and  whenever  symptoms  in  the 
urethra  cannot  be  accounted  for  after  an  examination  of 
that  part,  the  state  of  the  rectum  should  be  carefully 
investigated.  I  have  seen  two  very  remarkable  cases  of 
disease,  attributed  to  the  urethra,  resulting  from  a  small 
fissure  in  the  fold  of  the  mucous  membrane  of  the  intes- 
tine, which  remained  for  a  very  long  time  unrelieved  by 
all  the  means  adopted  for  their  cure,  until  at  last  the 
fissures  were  discovered,  and  complete  relief  obtained  by 
division  of  the  sphincter  muscle  and  of  the  extremity  of 
the  rectum  corresponding  to  the  fissure."    We  have  very 


386  ITCHING  A  SYMPTOM  OF  ULCERATION. 

often  observed  this  origin  of  urethral  irritability.  In 
our  own  work  on  diseases  of  the  sexual  system,  it  is  par- 
ticularly noticed ;  that  work  was  published  seventeen 
years  since,  and  scarcely  a  week  has  elapsed  without  a 
renewed  conviction  of  its  truth.  We  do  not  find  the 
severity  of  Mr.  Guthrie's  operation  for  fissure  necessary, 
it  is  true,  much  milder  means  sufficing  to  cure  ;  but  we 
are  convinced,  with  him,  that  nothing  but  the  fissure 
causes  the  disease  of  the  urethra  ;  in  piles,  when  long 
existing,  the  urethra  and  bladder  are  almost  always 
affected,  and  we  often  refuse  to  treat  the  patient  for  sup- 
posed affection  of  these  important  organs,  well  knowing 
that  all  his  troubles  originate  from  piles. 

Benjamin  Brodie  remarks,  p.  310,  in  his  Essays  on 
Haemorrhoids  :  "Internal  piles  often  give  the  patient  a 
great  deal  of  inconvenience,  besides  which  they  are  liable 
to  irritate  the  neighboring  parts,  often  producing  the 
frequent  desire  to  urinate,  and  at  other  times  inducing 
spasm  in  the  muscles  that  surround  the  membranous 
part  of  the  urethra,  so  as  to  cause  complete  retention  of 
urine."  We  have  often  been  obliged  to  recommend 
laudanum  injections  for  this  condition  of  things,  and  it 
has  been  necessary  to  repeat  them  for  days  and  weeks, 
the  patient  obtaining  no  permanent  relief  till  the  piles 
were  cured.  These  cases  are  often  a  great  annoyance  to 
the  surgeon,  because  the  patient,  notwithstanding  the 
possibility  of  piles  existing  when  they  do  not  come  down 
at  stool,  and  he  can  neither  see  nor  feel  them,  will  not 
believe  in  their  existence,  insisting  on  the  disease  of  the 
urethra  only  being  attended  to. 

In  diseases  of  the  neck  of  the  womb,  the  sympathy 
with  the  bowels  is  marked  ;  we  scarcely  ever  find  such  a 
case  without  some  morbid  condition  of  the  rectum ; 
either  piles  or  fissure,  to  which  women  are  particularly 


KECTAL  ULCERATION  CAUSES  ITCHING.  387 

subject  from  constipation  of  the  bowels,  are  often  found 
associated ;  the  bladder  scarcely  ever  escapes  in  a 
chronic  case  of  piles,  and  we  never  think  of  treating 
their  diseased  condition  separately  ;  the  surgeon  who 
understands  these  sympathies,  will  never  be  influenced 
by  his  patient's  wishes  to  ignore  one  or  the  other. 

If  we  have  succeeded  in  conveying  an  idea  of  a  sym- 
pathetic affection,  we  will  feel  better  able  to  explain  the 
actual  disease  that  causes  it.  We  will  commence  with 
an  affection  of  the  rectum  that  is  in  some  degree  an 
illustration  of  a  continuous  or  near  sympathy,  with 
a  disease  originating  higher  up  the  bowel  than  the 
symptom  for  which  the  patient  usually  seeks  advice,  and 
which  he  invariably  believes  to  be  the  original  disease  ; 
it  is  irritation  or  itching  of  the  integument  immediately 
surrounding  the  anus.  Mr.  Ashton,  Dr.  George  Ma- 
cartney Bushe,  the  plain  and  acute  Quain,  and  Benja- 
min Brodie,  all  give  special  chapters  on  this  exquisitely 
annoying  disease,  and  all  of  them  trace  it  chiefly  to 
the  friction  of  the  parts  excited  by  walking,  or,  in  most 
instances,  to  the  continuous  irritation  of  the  mucous 
membrane  lining  the  entire  bowels,  produced  by  irritat- 
ing articles  of  diet ;  rarely  do  either  of  them  speak  of  it, 
as  produced  by  an  ulcer  immediately  above  the  anus. 
Now  the  reader  will  remember  we  disclaimed  any  origin- 
ality in  these  popular  articles,  nor  do  we  intend  to  lay 
claim  to  it  here,  as  all  these  authors  admit  it  occasionally 
to  originate  as  we  here  suppose.  An  experience  of 
thirty  years  has  however  convinced  us,  that  either  in- 
ternal piles,  varicose  veins,  or  actual  ulceration  of  the 
delicate  membrane  that  lines  the  bowels,  is  the  cause  of 
this  affection  ;  in  a  great  number  of  cases,  after  years  of 
misery,  the  patients  having  exhausted  the  catalogue  of 
popular   ointments  and   scientific  prescriptions   of    the 


388  CONCEALED  ABSCESS  OF  THE  EECTUM. 

books,  we  have  found  on  a  careful  examination  with  the 
simple  tubular  speculum,  either  distinct  patches  of  the 
mucous  membrane  of  a  deep  red  color,  and  of  course 
highly  congested,  or  actual  superficial  ulceration,  some- 
times reaching  the  muscular  coat  of  the  bowel.  In  a 
number  of  these  cases,  fistula  has  followed  before  the 
patient  would  consent  to  any  examination  ;  the  original 
affection  having  been  pronounced  and  believed  to  be  a 
superficial  affection  of  the  skin  only. 

When  the  red  spot  within  the  bowel  has  continued 
long  enough  in  the  congested  or  gorged  state  of  its 
blood-vessels  (and  we  can  never  judge  how  long  it  will 
require,  as  no  two  cases  of  disease  are  ever  precisely 
alike) — ulceration  in  the  delicate  lining  membrane  of  the 
bowel  occurs,  matter  is  formed  and  burrows  beneath  this 
membrane,  both  the  ulceration  and  matter  tending 
downwards  from  a  law  of  nature  ;  the  faeces  work  their 
way  into  the  hole  produced  by  the  ulcer,  and  a  small 
swelling,  always  called  a  boil  by  the  patient,  appears 
near  the  anus  ;  this  is  either  for  a  long  while  stationary, 
the  matter  and  faeces  being  pressed  out  again  through 
the  hole  into  the  bowel  by  means  of  the  weight  of  the 
body  when  sitting,  or  it  is  opened  by  the  surgeon,  devel- 
oping to  the  patient's  conviction  its  true  nature  by  the 
discharge  ;  this,  unlike  an  ordinary  boil,  is  mingled  with 
faeces  and  putrid  matter  long  inclosed  in  the  burrowing 
abscess,  which  forms  a  depending  pouch,  and  thus  pre- 
vents the  issue  of  its  greater  portion  backwards  into  the 
bowel.  This  is  an  incomplete  fistula,  when  it  is  opened 
by  the  surgeon,  or  by  ulceration  it  is  a  complete  one. 
Of  course  it  can  only  be  cured  by  the  knife  or  ligature  ; 
but  a  slight  application  of  caustic  might,  if  applied  early 
have  prevented  its  ulceration  through  the  bowel. 


WORMS   IN  PORK  AND  MUTTON. 


The  existence  of  worms  in  the  bodies  of  man  and  other 
animals  has  been  known  from  the  earliest  times  :  they 
have  been  supposed  to  occupy  the  intestines  and  stom- 
ach only  ;  this  is  a  great  error  ;  they  burrow  in  various 
parts  of  the  body  ;  they  have  been  found  in  the  lungs,  in 
the  liver,  in  the  kidneys,  and  in  shut  sacks ;  they  issue 
from  abscesses,  and  the  muscles  and  livers  of  swine 
sheep,  and  rabbits  are  often  penetrated  by  them ;  they 
breed  and  multiply  to  a  great  extent  whilst  feeding  upon 
the  juices  of  the  animal.  We  have  found  them  in  the 
intestines  of  snakes  ;  the  anaconda  that  died  at  Barnum's 
had  several  inclosed  in  sacks  in  its  body.  The  germ 
must  be  eaten,  or  the  progenitor  must  deposit  its  ova  in 
the  rectum  of  the  afflicted  animal ;  in  hogs,  cats,  and 
dogs,  the  sources  whence  they  obtain  their  food  admit  of 
a  ready  solution  of  the  mode  of  entrance.  Verminolo- 
gists  have,  however,  given  us  some  remarkable  facts  with 
regard  to  the  origin  of  these  parasites.  Dr.  Kuchen- 
meister,  of  Germany,  discovered  that  the  ova  of  one 
variety  of  worms,  namely,  the  Cysticircus,  which  is  found 
in  the  muscles  or  red  meat  of  sheep  and  hogs,  and 
which  is  no  larger  than  a  flea  when  of  its  full  size,  when 
taken  into  the  intestines  of  a  man  by  eating  mutton  or 
pork  that  contained  these  parasites,  would  produce  a 
tape- worm  often  fifty  or  even  a  hundred  feet  in  length. 


390  WORMS  Uii  PORK  AND  MUTTON. 

He  ascertained  this  by  feeding  criminals,  condemned  to 
die,  with  diseased  pork  and  mutton,  and  then  examining 
their  dead  bodies.  In  every  instance  he  found  one  or 
more  tape-worms. 

Another  variety  of  worm  found  in  muscles  of  hogs  is 
called  Trichina.  It  is  transferred  to  the  human  body  by 
eating  the  raw  or  even  underdone  flesh  of  the  hog  and 
also  of  the  sheep. 

In  two  villages  in  Germany  more  than  three  hundred 
persons  have  died  from  eating  measly  pork — as  it  is 
called  when  affected  by  the  Trichina — and  several  cases 
have  occurred  in  this  city.  We  examined  the  sections  of 
the  muscles  of  those  who  died,  by  the  microscope,  and 
found  them  abounding  with  the  worms.  Thorough  cook- 
ing of  course  will  kill  them.  The  Germans  are  peculiarly 
liable  to  it  because  they  often  eat  raw  pork.  Cats  and 
dogs  have  it  often. 

We  call  to  mind  an  amusing  illustration  of  popular 
ignorance,  that  occurred  a  few  years  since,  in  relation  to 
parasitic  animals,  and  the  terrible  role  they  play  in  the 
production  of  diseases,  that  will  serve  to  show  how  diffi- 
cult it  is  to  make  people  think,  even  when  the  most 
startling  and  fascinating  illustrations  of  the  productive 
power  of  nature  are  presented  to  them.  An  enterpris- 
ing man  brought  to  this  city  a  beautiful  horse,  with  one 
of  those  wonderful  creatures,  a  specimen  of  the  filaria  or 
thread-worm,  in  the  aqueous  humor  of  his  eye.  He  pro- 
posed to  exhibit  the  creature  as  an  instructive  curiosity. 
His  first  step  was  to  obtain  an  indorsement  of  the  vera- 
city of  his  specimen  from  some  one  who  was  supposed  to 
understand  the  phenomenon,  and  would  publicly  testify 
to  its  truthfulness.  Accordingly  he  called,  amongst 
others,  tipon  us,  and  we  were  delighted  at  the  rare 
opportunity  of  seeing  what  we  only  knew  from  books. 


WORMS  IN  PORK  AND  MUTTON.  391 

There  was  the  worm  writhing  about,  from  the  posterior 
to  the  anterior  chamber  of  the  eye,  with  wonderful  rapid- 
ity and  gracefulness,  at  least  three  inches  in  length,  and 
white  as  snow,  over  the  black  ground  of  the  pupil,  like  a 
piece  of  thread,  as  it  name,  "  filaria,"  implies.  "We  fur- 
nished the  man  with  our  humble  opinion,  which  was 
duly  published.  The  late  Major  Le  Conte,  certainly  a 
very  able  authority,  likewise  gave  him  his  certificate  ; 
both  were  published  in  the  papers ;  and  that  was  the 
end  of  his  anticipated  exhibition.  Our  opinions  were 
received  with  a  roar  of  laughter.  "We  were  duly  called 
upon  by  some  of  our  commercial  friends  and  patients, 
and  commiserated  for  our  foolishness  in  being  so  "  gam- 
moned." 

17* 


CURING "   DISEASES-CAN   IT  BE  DONE? 


Putting  medicine  into  the  mouth  to  "  cure  "  disease  is 
an  absurdity  ;  you  can  "  cure "  a  man  or  a  pig  only 
when  dead.  If  you  were  to  attempt  to  "  cure  either  of 
them  whilst  living,  nature  would  treat  your  salt  as  she 
generally  treats  your  medicine  ;  she  would  throw  it  from 
the  stomach  by  vomiting  or  purging.  She  would  treat 
it  as  you  would  a  filthy  fellow  who  intrudes  into  your 
parlor.  You  may  perturb  the  functions  of  the  body,  but 
you  cannot  compel  any  one  of  them  to  do  your  bidding  ; 
they  choose  to  work  harmoniously  and  in  their  own 
way — not  in  yours  and  according  to  your  theory.  "When 
Napoleon  the  Great  said  to  his  physician  those  memora- 
ble words — "  Doctor,  no  physicking !  We  are  a  machine 
made  to  live.  "We  are  organized  for  that  purpose  ;  such 
is  our  nature.  Do  not  counteract  the  living  principle.  Let 
it  alone  ;  leave  it  the  liberty  of  defending  itself ;  it  will 
do  better  without  you  and  your  drugs" — he  uttered  a 
great  truth.  We  have  expressed  it  in  different  language 
in  our  motto  on  the  cover.  St.  Paul  also  said  :  "  And, 
whether  one  member  suffer,  all  the  members  suffer  with 
it ;  or  one  member  be  honored,  all  the  members  rejoice 
with  it."  What  did  he  mean  if  not  the  sympathy  of  all 
the  organs  when  diseased  or  deranged  in  their  action, 
and  the  full  rejoicing  of  all  the  members  when  in  health  ? 


AN   ALLEGORY.  393 

Every  note  must  be  perfect.  And  when  a  foolish,  man, 
with  a  theory  of  his  own,  attempts  to  "  cure  "  disease  by 
medicine,  he  shows  his  stupidity,  vanity,  or  dishonesty. 
The  sole  business  of  a  conscientious  medical  man  is  to 
instruct  his  patients  how  to  keep  well,  and  how  to  regu- 
late the  natural  agents — food,  warmth,  rest,  and  sleep — 
so  as  to  resist  disease  till  the  natural  forces  can  overcome 
it ;  that  is  all — all  else  is  experiment. 


AN   ALLEGOEY: 

ADDRESSED  TO  THE  EDITOR. 

A  TAiJi  old  cedar,  with  branches  wide, 

Stood  grandly,  though  lonely,  by  ocean's  side 

In  the  blast,  and  the  hail,  and  the  weird  moonlight, 

He  hugged  the  sad  shade  with  defiant  might ; 

Storms  he  loved,  and  the  lightning's  flash, 

And  thrilled  with  joy  at  the  thunder's  crash. 

Creak !  creak !  with  a  surge  and  a  shiiek, 
Full  many  a  buffet,  but  never  a  moan ; 

With  sinewy  bend  and  savage  freak 
He  wrestles  with  spirits  and  holds  his  own! 

A  trim-cut  tree,  with  smiling  air, 

Stood,  yet  scarce  lived,  in  a  garden  fair ; 

With  its  chosen  companions  nurtured  with  care, 

Safe  from  the  blasts  of  the  wintry  air  ; 

Yet  oft  imprisoned  nature  sighed 

For  the  freedom  in  gardens  trim  denied. 

Mildly  it  smiled  its  life  away ; 

One  morn  on  the  ground  it  quiet  lay  ; 

The  gardener  came,  but  he  dropped  no  tear, 

For  it  had  been  hollow  for  many  a  year. 


394  AN  ALLEGORY. 

Thou  tall  old  cedar,  with  branches  wide, 
Yet  lonely  standing  by  ocean's  side, 
Hath  the  blast  not  withered  thy  youthful  fire  ? 
Canst  thou  wrestle  for  aye  with  the  Storm-king's  ire  ? 
"Ha!  ha!"  he  cried,  " though  lonely,  I'm  free  ; 
I'd  rather  be  thus  than  yon  trim-cut  tree    ' 

Creak !  creak !  with  a  surge  and  a  shriek, 
Full  many  a  buffet,  but  never  a  moan  ; 
With  sinewy  bend  and  savage  freak 
He  wrestles  with  spirits  and  holds  his  own ! 

My  tree  is  revealed  by  the  lightning's  flash — 
He  staggers  and  falls  with  resounding  crash  ; 
His  grand  old  nature  'twas  there  I  found, 
And  I  wept  as  I  gazed  on  his  heart  so  sound ; 
And  the  storm-spirits  sought  the  spot  with  tears — 
There  was  strength  to  battle  with  untold  years ! 

Creak !  creak !  with  a  surge  and  a  shriek, 

No  force  of  the  storm  could  extort  a  moan  ; 
But  struck  by  the  thunderbolt's  devious  freak, 
He  has  died  as  he  lived — alone,  alone ! 

John  Matthews. 


IRELAND,  AMEEICA  AND  FENIANISM. 

Ireland  reminds  us  of  a  beautiful  widow  with  a  priestly  vulture  at 
each  breast,  and  her  arms  stretched  out  towards  America. 

Fenianism  reminds  us  of  a  man  struggling  to  get  possession  of  a 
razor  to  cut  his  mother's  throat. 


A  REMARKABLE  QUACK. 


Poob  Spolasco  is  dead,  and  his  old  white  horse  and 
magnificent  silver  carbuncled  harness,  and  his  gold 
spectacles,  tremendous  shirt-frills  and  ruffles,  and  re- 
markable white  hat,  no  more  excite  the  wonder  of 
travelers  and  the  smiles  of  our  citizens.  A  man  so  crazy 
for  notice  as  to  rig  himself  up  so  fantastically,  would 
hardly  be  content  even  in  the  other  world  without  some 
notoriety,  and  as  we  have  often  been  told  that  our  journal 
was  adapted  to  circulate  in  both  spheres  of  the  spiritual 
world,  we  hope  the  Baron  will  not  object  to  the  publica- 
tion  of  this   enumeration   of  his   titles. 

MOVEMENTS   OF    DISTINGUISHED    PERSONAGES. 

Baron  Spolasco,  M.  D. — Doctor  of  Medicine — Physi- 
cian —  Surgeon  —  Apothecary —  Man -midwife — Surgeon- 
accoucheur — Consulting  Physician — Medical  Practitioner 
— Specialist — Prescribing  Physician — Operating  Surgeon 
— Physiologist — Pathologist — Nosologist — Toxicologist — 
Therapeutist — Pharmaceutist — Oculist — Aurist  and  Den- 
tist — Allopathist  — Homceopathist — Hydropathist — Elec- 
tropathist  —  Galvanopathist —  Mesmerist — Electrician — 
Spiritualist  Physician — Herbalist — Bootist — Bed  Pepper- 
ist — Fomentationist — Embrocationist  — Wart-charmer — 


396  POOR  SPOLASCO. 

Corn-cutter —  Perfumer  —  Fu  irrigator — Enchanter — Spe- 
cial Professor  Extraordinary  of  Medicine,  Surgery,  and 
Mid-wifery,  in  the  Royal  Baronial  Spolasconial  College 
of  Medicine,  Surgery,  Pharmacy,  and  Mid-wifery,  Hair- 
curling,  Preserving,  and  Dyeing,  and  the  kindred  sciences 
of  Astrology,  Rat-catching,  Bug  and  Roach  Exterminat- 
ing— Knight-commander  of  the  Faithful,  etc.,  etc.,  etc., 
was  moved  from  his  baronial  and  collegiate  halls  in 
Spring  Street,  one  day  last  month,  by  order  of  the  Ward 
Court.  His  unique  and  valuable  collection  of  canes, 
crutches,  and  other  progressive  apparatus,  with  a  com- 
prehensive collection  of  old  boots  and  shoes,  and  stuffed 
monkeys,  rattlesnakes,  and  dead  babies,  were  summarily 
ejected  into  the  street  in  consequence  of  the  non-payment 
of  certain  demands  of  the  nature  of — rent. 


MEDICAL  CONTENTS 

OF    THE 

S   O  -A.  L  IP  IE   L  . 


This  volume  "  Backbone,"  is  published  as  a  fair  specimen  of  the  Scalpel* 
The  entire  work  from  the  first  to  the  forty-seventh  number,  neatly  bound, 
lettered  and  indexed  in  Six  books  of  500  pages  each,  may  be  had  of  the 
Editor  only,  for  $18,  any  single  number  50  cts.  The  volumes  cannot  be 
furnished  by  Booksellers,  as  they  cost  all  that  is  asked  for  them.  It  is  in- 
tended as  a  great  health  library  for  the  People :  only  a  tithe  of  the  con- 
tents is  given.  All  orders  must  be  addressed  to  Edwaed  H.  Dixon,  Box 
3,121,  or  at  Dr.  Dixons  residence,  42  Fifth  Ave.  Single  numbers  at  1  Vesey 
street,  Astor  House. 


No.  1.  Abortionism  in  New  York;  its  History  and  consequences.  What 
do  we  know  of  Rheumatism?  Can  it  be  cured?  What  are  the 
remedies,  and  how  are  they  to  be  used  ?  The  proper  Diet  and 
Treatment  for  the  Nursing  Mother.  Ether  and  Chloroform  in 
Childbirth,  are  they  safe?    Tobacco:  its  Effect  on  Virility. 

No.  2.  What  is  the  nature  of  Scrofula  and  Consumption  ?  Can  they  be 
cured?  By  what  method?  Functions  of  the  Skin:  Cold  fatal  to 
Infants.  Abortionism — continued.  Six  cases  of  Childbirth  under  the 
influence  of  Chloroform.  What  are  Piles?  Can  they  be  cured? 
By  what  means?  Rascality  of  a  celebrated  oculist :  Description  of 
Cataract  and  disease  of  the  Nerve  of  the  Eye :  how  to  distinguish 
them.  Varicocele :  What  is  it  ?  Produced  by  sexual  excess  and 
self  abuse. 

No.  3.  To  what  extent  is  Medicine  entitled  to  confidence?  Fistula,  Fissure 
and  Prolapsus  of  the  Rectum :  What  are  they  ?  Ought  they  to  be 
cured?  How  can  it  be  done?  Has  the  Imagination  of  the  Mother 
any  influence  on  her  unborn  Child  ?  What  is  a  Hernia  or  Rupture  ? 
Truss  swindlers  in  New  York. 

No.  4.  Purgative  Medicine :  Villainy  of  Pill  Venders.  Treatment  of  Pul- 
monary Diseases  by  Inhalation.  Remarkable  instance  of  the  effects 
of  the  Mother's  imagination  upon  her  unborn  Child.  Abortionism, 
its  anatomical  and  physiological  consequences.— (Last  Article.) 


No.  5.  Contagious  and  Infections  Diseases ;  Examples  ;  is  Cholera  con- 
tagious ?  Lite  Sketches  of  eight  New  York  Physicians  ;  the  Edi- 
tor, by  himself;  serious,  humorous  and  satirical.  The  Effects  of 
Tobacco  on  Virility  ;  the  Causes  of  Stricture  of  the  Urethra.  Dysen- 
tery :     What  is  it  ?    How  does  it  differ  from  Diarrhoea  ? 

No.  6.  What  are  the  Causes  of  Early  Deciy  in  American  Women?  Fall- 
ing of  the  Womb,  its  causes,  anatomy  and  cure.  New  method  of 
Exploring  the  Fallopian  Tubes  to  Detect  the  Cause  of  Barrenness. 
Pressure  in  Spermatorhcea,  from  self-abuse. 

No.  7.  Hysterics :  continued  from  the  article  on  the  Early  Decay  of 
American  Women.  The  Proper  Method  of  Supporting  the  Pro- 
lapsed Womb. 

No.  8.  Hereditary  Descent  of  Diseases ;  Consequences  of  Intermarriages  of 
Blood  Relatives.  Life  Sketches  of  New  York  Physicians,  Medical 
Philosophers,  Litterateurs  and  Rascals. 

No.  9.  The  Causes  of  Cancer  of  the  Womb ;  Difficulty  in  the  Monthly 
Periods  ;  Description  of  those  Diseases  :  Treatment  of  them.  Preg- 
nancy under  Extraordinary  Circumstances.  Nervous  Diseases; 
What  are  they?    Diseases  Mimicked  by  Hysteria. 

No.  10.  The  Shape,  Proportion  and  Ornament  of  our  Modern  Apartments. 
Medical  Fantoccini ;  or,  Life  Sketches  of  New  York  Physicians. 
The  Frequency,  Symptoms  and  Progress  of  Cancer  of  the  Womb. 
The  Radical  Cure  of  Rupture. 

No.  11.  The  Construction,  Ventilation  and  Warming  of  Sleeping  Apart- 
ments. Lead  Poisons :  Our  Cookery  and  Croton  Water  Pipes,  Zinc, 
Walnut  Leaves  in  Scrofula  and  Consumption : 

No.  12.  What  is  Cancer  ?  Experiments  in  its  Cure  by  the  Application  of 
Freezing  Mixtures :  with  Illustrative  Cases.  Description  and  Origin 
of  Worms  and  other  Parasites  that  infest  the  Human  Body. 

No.  13.  The  necessity  of  a  Varied  and  Nutritious  Diet  to  the  highest  de- 
,  velopment  of  Moral,  Intellectual  and  Physical  Excellence:  The 
Elements  of  our  Bodies.  The  More  Extraordinary  Parasites  of  the 
Human  Body — Hydatids :  the  Filaria,  or  Intermuscular  Worm  :  the 
Guinea  Worm :  the  Giant  Strongle,  or  Kidney  Worm :  the  Face 
Worm :  the  Liver  Worm :  Whence  do  these  Creatures  come  ?  Phy- 
siological Use  of  the  Beard  ;  its  Electrifying  Properties. 

No.  14.  Muscular  and  Constitutional  Strength  :  its  origin :  Vegetable  and 
Animal  Diet:  "  Arise,  Peter,  Slay  and  Eat."  The  Toilette  of  the 
New  York  Ladies :  The  Actual  Consequences  of  Damp  Feet :  Life  is 
warm — Death  is  cold.    The  Causes  and  Evils  of  Celibacy. 

No.  15.  What  are  the  Causes  of  the  great  Prevalence  of  Dropsy  in  the 
Head,  and  Convulsions  in  Children  in  New  York — Their  Symp- 
toms and  Treatment.  The  Education  of  our  Children :  The  Child's 
embodiment  of  God:  Beauty,  Order,  Justice  and  Truth.  Dysme- 
norrhea, the  Cause  of  Barrenness ;  its  Treatment. 


CONTENTS  OF  THE  SCALPEL. 


No.  16.  Hotel  and  Clnb-House  Life  in  New  York ;  their  Pernicious  In- 
fluence on  Morals  and  Manners;  the  Art  of  Furnislung  a  House 
with  Economy  and  Simple  Elegance.  Passional  Excesses,  Over- 
heated and  Unventilated  Apartments,  Tight  Clothes  and  Bad  Food, 
the  Causes  of  Diarrhoea  and  Dropsy  in  the  Head  of  Children.  Preg- 
nancy Extraordinary ;  or,  Humor  and  Science;  a  Western  Consul- 
tation ;  Laughable  Result  of  a  Medical  Pow-wow.  Cases  of  Disease 
of  the  Neck  of  the  Uterus  and  their  Treatment. 

No.  17.  Ergot  of  Rye  as  an  Agent  assisting  Labor.  Will  it  produce  Abor- 
tion? Regular  Aid  to  Quackery:  Treatment  of  Cancer;  alledged 
Remarkable  Cure.  Successful  Case  of  Extraction  of  a  Living  Child 
by  the  Caesarian  Section,  after  the  death  of  the  mother : — Ovarian 
Tumors  :  what  are  they  ? 

No.  18.  Scarlet  Fever:  What  are  the  causes  of  its  dreadful  Fatality?  true 
method  of  reasoning  the  subject ;  Scarlet  Fever,  Rash,  and  Scarla- 
tina, the  same ;  how  to  distinguish  it  from  Measels.  The  Preser- 
vation of  the  Eyes :  Dangerous  consequences  of  Pressure ;  evil  re- 
sults of  opening  the  Eyes  in  Water. 

No.  19.  The  Structure  and  Functions  of  the  Nerves:  What  is  paralysis? 
two  varieties;  Paralysis  from  Sexual  Passion.  What  is  Croup? 
its  Symptoms  and  Treatment. 

No.  20.  The  Summer  or  Teething  Diarrhoea  of  Children  :  Its  Causes  and 
Treatment ;  has  medicine  any  control  over  it  ?  the  Physician  should 
explain  its  Nature;  the  order  in  which  the  Teeth  appear;  Tem- 
perature, bad  Air  and  Teething ;  its  Treatment ;  what  should  the 
Child  eat?  how  should  it  sleep?  what  Medicines  are  proper? 

No.  21.  What  is  the  nature  of  the  Nerve  Power?  Its  action  on  our  bodies 
under  the  various  stimuli ;  its  power  over  the  Contraction  of  the 
Muscles ;  the  Influence  of  Prolonged  Inspiration  in  curing  Diseases 
and  giving  strength  to  the  body ;  how  does  it  compare  with  other 
systems  of  Cure?    What  is  Whooping  Cough? 

No.  22.  The  Structure  and  Functions  of  the  Human  Heart :  The  Heart  of 
the  Veins ;  the  Circulation  through  the  Lungs ;  the  Heart  of  the 
Arteries ;  the  Circulation  through  the  Body.  What  is  a  Common 
Catarrh  or  Cold?  What  is  Dvspepsia?  How  can  it  be  cured? 
What  influence  have  the  passions  over  it?  The  True  Method  of 
curing  Dyspepsia.  How  shall  the  People  know  when  they  are 
properly  Vaccinated  ?    What  is  Vaccination  ?    What  is  Varioloid  ? 

No.  23.  The  Motive  Power  of  the  Heart  is  Oxygen;  rate  of  the  Heart's 
Action  in  different  positions ;  number  of  Pulsations  at  different 
periods  of  Life ;  interesting  Experiments  to  prove  the  Heart  the 
great  Moter;  fashionable  Dinner  Hours— their  sad  consequences; 
cold  and  warm  Air ;  hot  and  cold  Baths— their  influence  on  the 
Body.  Education,  Physical,  Social  and  Moral :  Grecian  Gymnasia ; 
Influence  of  Exercise  on  Nobilitv  of  Character ;  Religious  duty  of 
cultivating  the  Faculties ;  the  Soul  is  manifested  through  the  Senses ; 
Exercise  prevents  the  Vicious  Propensities ;  every  Sense  should  be 
exercised  agreeably ;  Legislative  Power  should  cultivate  the  People. 


Sketches  of  a  Western  Student's  Life:  The  First  Case;  the 
Poisoner ;  a  young  Demon ;  sin  is  caused  by  contempt  of  God's 
Laws ;  the  nature  of  the  Soul  depends  upon  the  Organism ;  beauti- 
ful Scene ;  a  Western  Camp  Meeting ;  sweet  and  painful  Memories  ; 
a  tremendously  hot  Sermon ;  the  lost  Soul ;  Nervous  and  Psychical 
results  ;  philosophical  explanation  of  a  Revival ;  hard  work  to  get 
a  second  one;  mischief  in  the  Camp;  Zaccheus;  Camp  Meeting 
wolves ;  a  midnight  attack  ;  true  character  of  the  Methodist  Preacher. 

No.  24.  The  Construction  of  the  Heart  before  Birth :  how  the  Foetus  re- 
ceives its  nourishment?  Crippled  condition  of  the  Lungs  in  most 
Women;  Invocation  to  study  Nature  and  to  teach  it.  Enlarged 
Veins  and  Ulcers  of  the  Legs;  their  Causes;  How  are  they  pro- 
duced ?  In  what  kind  of  People  ?  Their  Treatment ;  Method  of  Cure 
— by  pressure.  What  are  Epileptic  Fits?  How  do  they  differ 
from  Apoplexy  ?  Description  of  them ;  Time  of  Life  of  their  most 
frequent  Occurrence  ;  Symptoms  of  their  approach ;  where  do  they 
originate  ?  Circumstances  that  predispose  to  them ;  abuse  in  Early 
Life ;  difference  between  Hysterics  and  Epilepsy ;  what  can  we  do 
to  prevent  them  ?  Is  there  any  law  for  the  Contraction  of  Marriage, 
by  which  the  human  race  may  be  improved  ? 

No.  25.  The  Sore  Mouth  of  Early  Infancy,  commonly  called  the  Sprue, 
Thrush,  etc. ;  what  is  its  nature  ?  how  should  it  be  treated  ?  What 
Causes  are  sufficient  to  induce  the  Physician  to  advise  the  early 
Weaning  of  the  Child  ?  Personal  appearance  of  a  Good  and  a  Bad 
Nurse;  Causes  that  derange  the  Milk  Secretion.  What  does  a 
Physician  mean  when  he  calls  a  Child  Scrofulous  ?  Ulceration  of 
the  Lower  Bowel  often  mistaken  for  Piles  and  other  Diseases. 

No.  26. — The  Causes  that  tend  to  Depress  Character  in  American  Youth  ; 
The  Laws  of  the  Human  Temperaments  in  relation  to  Marriage ; 
How  to  choose  a  Wife;  Reason  why  Similar  Temperaments  should 
never  marry  ;  why  Washington,  Bonaparte  and  Jackson  were  child- 
less ;  Proper  balance  of  Power  in  the  Sexes ;  Why  are  Diseases 
Hereditary. 

No.  27.  How  to  Grind  your  own  Axe ;  Cost  of  Living  in  New  York ; 
Cost  of  Food  regulates  Mortality ;  Infernal  Results  o:  Forestalling 
Food ;  Liquor  Law  versus  Market  Law.  Influence  of  Vital  Force 
on  the  Mind ;  the  Base  of  the  Brain  determines  the  amount  of 
Energy  of  Character  and  the  Tenacity  of  Life;  How  to  determine 
the  probable  Length  of  Life — bating  casualties ;  Proofs  that  force 
of  Character  depends  on  the  Base ;  Anterior  Brain  alone  is  unfit  to 
govern ;  Proofs  from  History  of  this  Truth ;  Proofs  from  Robbers 
and  Pirates ;  the  Clergy  for  the  most  part  unfit  to  govern.  A  popu- 
lar Explanation  of  the  manner  in  which  Cod-liver  Oil  cures  Con- 
sumption ;  Also  the  use  of  Acids ;  Rational  Medicine ;  Salt,  Quinine, 
and  some  others — how  to  cure  Fevers  ?  What  is  the  nature  of  Bilious 
and  Low  Fevers  ;  Absurdity  of  Ancient  Theories.  Brandy,  Tobacco, 
Tea  and  Coffee  ;  Why  were  they  created  ?  Are  they  all  evil  ?  A  sad 
Visit  to  a  young  Friend ;  the  Devotion  of  a  True  Woman ;  What 
Ordeal  will  she  not  court  ?  Faith  and  Love  will  save ;  Influence  of 
Tobacco  on'  the  Unborn  Child. 


CONTENTS  OF  THE  SCALPEL. 


No.  28.  The  Time-serving  Clergymen ;  How  to  prevent  Bronchitis ;  A 
Reverend  Jockey;  Dyspeptic  Bronchitis;  What  is  it?  A  Clergy- 
man's Experience  in  Medicine ;  A  Pious  Surgical  Wolf;  His  Death, 
Burial  and  Eulogium.  On  the  Protection  of  Society  from  Crime : 
Punishment ;  What  are  its  results  ?  Legitimate  extent  of.  Physi- 
cal Education :  How  does  it  compare  with  Medical  Treatment  in 
preventing  and  curing  Diseases.  The  Consumption  Curers:  the 
Scalpel  and  the  Public  Press;  Duties  of  Editors.  Astonishing 
Discovery :  The  Origin  of  Tape-worm,  Extraordinary  Experiments 
of  the  German  Physiologists  to  determine  the  Value  of  Water,  Al- 
cohol, Tea  and  Coffee,  as  Food.  Shocking  Outrage  by  the  Academy 
of  Medicine  on  Medical  Humanity ;  Awful  Result  of  Injecting  the 
Lungs  with  Nitrate  of  Silver;  Death  of  the  Victim  at  Bellevue; 
Duty  of  the  District  Attorney. 

No.  29.  What  is  the  nature  of  Consumption ;  or,  Tubercle  in  the  Lungs  ? 
Inhalation  and  its  Advocates:  Will  it  cure  the  Disease?  Will 
Electricity  cure  Disease  ?  Will  it  remove  Mercury  and  other  Metals 
from  the  System  ? 

No.  30.  God  the  Chemist,  and  the  Human  System  the  Laboratory :  Chem- 
istry accounts  for  some  Diseases ;  nature  of  Gout,  Diabetes,  Rheu- 
matism and  Gravel ;  their  dependence  on  Imperfect  Digestion.  The 
Diet  Question :  What  is  the  cause  of  the  great  frequency  of  Con- 
sumption and  Chronic  Diseases  ?  the  Remedy ;  What  should  be  the 
Diet  for  Health? 

No.  31.  Influence  of  the  Daily  Press  in  the  Propagation  of  Quackery  ;  Can 
we  effect  Reform  without  its  Aid?  The  great  Consumption-curer. 
Some  account  of  the  Birth,  Life,  Experience,  Death,  and  Resurrec- 
tion of  a  "  Medical  Heretic :"  a  veritable  Autobiography;  the  natu- 
ral and  acquired  Process  of  learning  how  to  Lie :  the  Lie  Religious  ; 
the  Lie  Medical.  Can  Consumption  be  Cured  ?  Extraordinary  Cases 
to  prove  Nature's  Intention. 

No.  32.  The  Natural  History  of  Crime ;  and  the  comparative  valueof  Medi- 
cal and  Lay  Evidence ;  A  Lecture  delivered  at  the  request  of  seve- 
ral distinguished  Members  of  the  New  York  Bar,  for  the  Relief  of 
a  young  Barrister  in  ill-health,  at  Hope  Chapel:  by  the  Editor. 
Gothic  Germany  versus  Celtic  America ;  A  few  Queries  to  Dr. 
McElheran  on  the  compliment  paid  us  in  asserting,  we  are  not 
Anglo-Saxons,  but  Celts — Sarcastic.  Tobacco ;  the  German  of  it ; 
by  Heimzen  of  "  the  Pioneer,"  Translated — Humorous  and  Sarcastic. 

No.  33.  Pork  and  Potatoes :  their  Influence  on  the  Bodies  and  Minds  of 
our  People ;  Wisdom  of  the  Mosaic  Law.  Ventilation :  its  Neces- 
sity and  Defects.  Our  Three  Nationalities:  Lugubrious  Letter- 
writing,  Physic-taking,  and  Dinner-bolting.  Our  Public  Sewers  in 
their  Relation  to  Health  ;  Who  should  Construct,  and  Direct  them  ? 
Champagne :  "  The  Best  Brands"  made  in  New  York ;  Its  Real 
Character ;  The  "  Peculiar  Variety,"  prepared  by  a  celebrated  Medi- 
cal Philanthropist  for  the  "Splendid  Palaces"  of  Mercer  street. 
The  Lager  Bier  Mania ;  Its  Influence  on  the  Mind  and  Body ;  Re- 
published, by  request,  from  the  Quarto  Number. 


CONTENTS  OF  THE  SCALPEL. 


No.  34.  The  Criminal  Condition  of  our  City :  its  Causes.  A  Preventive 
and  Detective  Police  ;  what  should  it  be.  Medical  Hygcne  in  Con- 
sumption. The  Movement  Cure:  What  is  it?  Is  it  "  Orthodox V" 
Gymnastics,  as  practised  in  this  City :  are  they  rationally  pursued  ? 
What  do  you  mean?  The  Natural  Use  of  Spirituous  and  other 
Drinks. 

No.  35.  The  Natural  Treatment  of  Consumption ;  Reason  and  Nature  vs. 
Quackery  and  Superstition.  Fever  and  Ague  ;  how  to  live  in  Un- 
healthy Situations ;  how  to  prevent,  and  how  to  Cure  it.  Influ- 
ence of  badly  constructed  Wells  in  producing  Fevers.  What  are 
Piles  or  Hemorrhoids ;  How  to  cure  them. 

No.  36.  The  Natural  Treatment  of  Consumption ;  What  is  the  Effect  of 
Alcoholic  Drinks  on  Consumptives?  A  Medical  Consultation; 
What  is  it  ?  its  Elastic  Character ;  Has  a  Man  a  right  to  buy  an 
Independent  Opinion  with  his  Money?  Structure  and  Functions 
of  the  Kidney  ;  its  Diseases.  A  Popular  Article  for  all  inclined  to 
Gluttony  and  Drunkenness.  Hooping-cough,  Scarlet  Fever,  and 
Measles ;  ought  they  to  be  treated  with  Medicines  ?  Impropriety  of 

fiving  Purgatives.    Letter  of  Advice  to  Consumptives  by  a  Southern 
'hysician  ;  should  they  go  South  1 

No.  37.  Our  Meat  Markets  ;  Diseased  condition  of  the  Cattle  slaughtered  >" 
Villainy  of  Butchers  ;  Evds  of  over-fattening  Cattle  ;  Apatby  of  our 
Citizens;  the  only  Remedy.  Special  Diseases  of  the  Kidney  and 
Bladder ;  Bloody  Urine ;  its  Causes  and  Treatment ;  Stone  in  the 
Bladder ;  Suppression  of  Urine ;  Retention  Urine ;  Irritable  Blad- 
der; Nocturnal  Incontinence  of  Urine;  Inflammation  of  the  Kid- 
ney ;  Bright's,  or  Granular  Disease  of  the  Kidney ;  Immoderate  flow 
of  Urine  ;  Diabetes ;  Inflammation  of  the  Bladder ;  with  their 
Symptoms  and  Treatment. 

No.  38.  The  Martyrdom  of  the  Innocents ;  Corruption  and  Villainy  of  our 
Civic  Law-Givers ;  What  kind  of  Sanitary  Government  does  New 
York  require.  The  Food  and  Exercise  of  Infants;  What  is  the 
Natural  Law  ?  Cold  and  warm  Baths  Dangerous.  Fever  and  Ague  ; 
What  is  it  ?  how  to  prevent  it. 

No.  39.  On  the  Natural  Law  of  Marriage ;  what  Temperaments  should 
and  should  not  Marry ;  Physiological  Incompatibility  between  the 
Sexes  in  Relation  to  Progeny;  Physiological  Incest'  Scrofulous 
Forms  of  Disease ;  Juvenile  Mortality  ;  Tobacco ;  Improper  Mar- 
riages ;  American  Precocity  ;  the  Vampires  of  America.  Sun-Light 
and  Shadow  ;  Life  and  Death ;  Window  Curtains  and  the  Glory  of 
God ;  Influence  of  Sun-Light  on  Animals ;  its  Absence  causes  Con- 
sumption ;  Effect  of  Confinement  in  Convents ;  on  Animals,  Pigeons, 
etc.     The  Importance  of  an  Independent  Professional  Opinion. 

No.  4.0.  A  Wholesome  Bide  for  the  Japonica  Philosophers  on  the  Physi- 
ological Buffalo  ;  What  are  the  Temperaments  ?  Importance  of  dis- 
tinguishing them  before  contracting  Marriage  ;  The  Life  Line  ;  Is 
it  possible  to  tell,  by  measuring  his  Head,  how  long  a  Man  will  live  ? 


CONTESTS  OF  THE  SCALPEL. 


Do  Intellectual  Pursuits  add  to  Longevity?  Incompatibility  be- 
tween the  Sexes  in  relation  to  Progeny ;  Cases  illustrating  the 
subject.  Bonner  and  the  New  York  Ledger ;  His  Position ;  Summ- 
ing up  of  the  Nature  and  Merits  of  his  Magazine. 

No.  41.  The  Popular  Medical  Race-course ;  A  diverting  article  on  family 
affairs,  which  the  reader  will  probably  understand  better  at  the  end 
than  the  beginning.  The  Hypocrisy  of  Gymnastics ;  Violent  Exertion 
Hurtful  to  Youth.  The  Clergy  and  the  Religious  Press ;  Review  of 
their  Papers ;  The  Clergyman  in  the  Pulpit ;  Advantages  and  Dis- 
advantages of  his  Position.  The  Lager  Bier  Question ;  Will  that 
Delectable  Beverage  Intoxicate  ?  Editor's  Experience.  What  Moral 
Considerations  should  prompt  the  limitation  of  Family. 

No.  42.  The  Construction  of  Sleeping  Apartments  in  Country  Houses ; 
What  Influence  have  they  had  in  Reducing  the  Life-Power  of  our 
People  ?  Suicide ;  Is  there  any  Organic  Law  Favoring  its  Commis- 
sion ?  A  Remarkable  Instance.  What  is  Quinine,  and  what  is  its 
Use?  Editor's  Opinion.  The  Women  of  New  York;  What  they 
are,  and  what  they  ought  to  be. 

No.  43.  A  Slight  Diversion  for  the  Pauper  Philanthropists :  The  Organic 
law ;  Pauperism  in  New  York ;  What  is  to  be  done  ?  Syphiliza- 
tion ;  Can  Inoculation  cure  Syphilis  ? 

No.  44.  Practical  Observations  on  the  Use  and  Abuse  of  Tobacco :  Its  two 
Deadly  Elements ;  Is  Smoking  or  Chewing  the  most  dangerous  ? 
Description  of  all  the  Diseases  produced  by  each ;  Will  a  Cigar  com- 
municate Syphilis ;  Cancer  produced  by  Smoking  ;  also  Disease  of  the 
Heart ;  Loss  of  Virility ;  Dys]>epsia  ;  Apoplexy  ;  Paralysis ;  Mania ; 
Amaurosis  ;  Incontinence  of  Urine.  The  Cure  of  Consumption  ;  In- 
jection of  Nitrate  of  Silver  into  the  Lungs  again. 

No.  45.  Our  Old  and  Young  Farmers  and  Villagers ;  What  is  the  matter 
with  them  ?  Are  they  living  Rationally  ?  Proposition  by  the  Editor. 
Sir  Benjamin  Brodie  on  Tobacco ;  Does  it  act  on  the  Nerves?  Edi- 
tor's Opinion  and  Experience ;  Continued  from  last  number ;  Does 
it  produce  Piles?  Rearing  Children  Physiologically;  Rules  for 
Parents.  Retention  of  the  Placenta  after  Abortion;  New  Instru- 
ment for  removing  it,  with  Plate.  What  is  Tie-Douloureux,  or 
Neuralgia  ;  Why  so  common  in  American  Women ;  it«  cure.  Con- 
stipation ;  Are  Injections  hurtful  to  the  Bowels  ?  Nature  and  Cure  of 
Popliteal  Aneurism  without  an  Operation ;  Cure  of  a  Student  of  Medi- 
cine by  the  Editor. 

No.  46.  Diseases  of  Defective  Nutrition  in  the  Young  Girl ;  Can  Medicine 
cure  Scrofula,  Consumption,  or  Diseases  of  the  Joints?  What  should 
be  done  for  them  ?  Hygiene  of  Children  ?  Exercise ;  What  it  can  do? 
What  does  it  do?  Disease  of  the  Rectum,  Bladder  and  Uterus; 
Their  power  to  simulate  Disease  in  other  parts  of  the  Body ;  Con- 
cealed Abscess  of  the  Rectum ;  Its  Symptom,  Itching ;  Often  pro- 
ductive of  Fistula,  and  impotence.  Infant  Mortality  in  New 
York ;  Will  the  present  war  improve  the  Race  ?  How  ?  A  case  of 
Lithotomy :  The  Stone  extracted  through  the  Rectum  by  a  New 


CONTENTS  OF  THE  SCALPEL. 


and  Simple  Instrument  invented  by  the  Editor,  with  a  Plate  of  the 
Instrument  and  Stone  in  position  as  it  was  withdrawn.  Do  Idiocy 
and  Scrofula  originate  most  frequently  from  the  Marriage  of  Blood 
Relatives,  or  are  they  due  to  Incompat  ible  Temperaments  ?  Evils 
of  Diploma  Shops ;  Advice  to  Country  people.  Abuse  of  the  great 
Organic  Law  of  our  Race,  the  Cause  of  the  War.  "  A  Lecture  on 
Pathology  and  Treatment  of  Stricture  of  the  Urethra,  and  its  in- 
stant cure  by  the  Wrethrotome,  with  three  cases — one  one  of  each 
variety  of  stricture :  Causes,  Symptoms,  and  Situation  of  Stricture ; 
Treatment  of  Complete  Obstruction;  Stricture  from  Kicks  and  a 
Fall  on  a  Board ;  Stricture  from  the  Abuse  of  Caustic ;  A  New  In- 
strument for  that  Operation;  Danger  of  Lallemand's  Instrument; 
Treatment  of  Gonorrhea  always  Empirical ;  Directions  to  Patients ; 
Gleet :  What  is  it  ?  How  to  treat  it."  Is  it  Proper  that  any  Con- 
siderations should  be  allowed  to  Check  the  Increase  of  Family? 
Treatment  of  Stricture  by  Internal  Incision — New  Instrument  for 
that  Purpose ;  Rationale  of  its  Application  according  to  Mr.  Syme ; 
Editor's  Views  ;  Loss  of  Virility  — an  Uususpected  Cause ;  Circum- 
cision— Was  it  a  Religious  or  Hygienic  Rite  ?  Its  Origin  and  great 
Antiquity;  Editor's  Views;  What  is  Varicocele?  Should  it  be 
Operated  on  ?  By  what  Method  ?  Leucorrhea  ;  Prolapsus  Uteri  and 
Hemorrhoids;  their  Influence  in  Producing  Neuralgia,  Starvation 
of  the  Blood,  and  Consumption  ;  also,  a  Lecture  on  Irritable  Urethra 
and  Incontinence  of  Urine:  What  is  Irritation?  How  produced? 
How  does  it  produce  Incontinence?  Will  Medicine  Cure  less  of 
Virility  ?  What  medicines  are  those  which  promise  any  relief?  This 
lecture  is  one  of  the  course  delivered  to  his  private  surgical  class 
by  the  Editor.    Twenty-eight  pages  extra. 

No.  47.  Sixteen  Years  of  Editorial  and  Thirty-four  of  Professional  Life : 
Editor *s  Origin  ;  Is  the  Scalpel  the  Production  of  a  Vertebrate  Ani- 
mal? Delights  of  Early  Practice  in  New  York — its  Esthetics  and 
Economics  ;  The  Tender  Mercies  of  the  Brethren ;  The  Kappa 
Lambda  Society;  Patrick  and  his  Wife  the  Tormentors  in  the 
Medical  Purgatory.  Our  Sewers  and  Tenant-Houses — what  Rela- 
tion do  the  bear  to  the  Cholera  ?  Can  the  Present  System  of  Drain- 
ing this  City  effect  the  Object?  The  Poor  Man:  Where  shall  he 
Live  ?  Who  shall  Build  his  House  ?  How  shall  he  Buy  his  Food  ? 
And  who  shall  smother  those  Jackalls,  the  Grocer  and  Coal  Dealers  ? 
How  shall  he  get  to  his  Daily  Work  ?  Editor's  Plan. 

Twenty-eight  pages  extra.  Inclose  fifty  cents  for  any  number  to  Box 
3121,  or  No.  2  "Vesey  street,  Astor  House.  The  Editor  will  not  supply 
single  numbers  to  city  applicants.  He  receives  none  but  professional  visits 
at  his  residence. 


A   VALUABLE    HOUSEHOLD    BOOK. 


S  C  E  IV  E  S 

IN  THE 


§xmtm  uf  a  §L  fj.  Jwgtjra. 


BY  EDWAED  H.  DIXON,  M.  D., 

EDITOR  OP  THE  "SCALPEL." 

Embellished  with  Eight  Exquisite  Engravings,  from  Original  Designs, 
by  Darley.     Engraved  by  N.  Orr.     Elegantly  bound  in  cloth,  gilt. 


PRICE 


1   SO 


This  highly  interesting  work  is  the  embodiment  of  much  that  is  val- 
uable in  science  and  striking  in  incident.  The  facts  and  narratives  here 
grouped  together  have  been  gleaned  during  a  practice  both  varied  and 
lengthy,  and  from  the  sources  the  most  diverse  both  in  means  and  matter. 
The  canopied  couch  and  the  lowly  pallet — pampered  luxury  and  starved 
mendicity — have  each  contributed  to  illustrate  some  of  those  phases,  the 
peculiarity  of  which  has  led  many  a  reflecting  mind  to  exclaim — "  Verily, 
life  is  a  mystery,  and  death  the  solution  thereof!" 

"Let  us  hope  that,  whatever  truths  useful  to  humanity  may  be  found 
within  these  pages,  will  live  for  a  little  while  after  the  hand  that  sketched 
them  is  resolved  into  its  elements,  and  mingled  with  the  atmosphere 
and  the  earth  whence  it  originated." 

The  following  is  but  a  small  portion  of  the  Contents : 

Scenes  in  City  Practice.— The  Cholera 
of  '32 — The  Broadway  Workwomen— The 
Young  Mother— The  Last  Day's  Work- 
Terry's  Courtship. 

Tub  Nerve  Power.— What  is  the  Na- 


ture of  the  Nerve  Power  ? — Its  action  on 
our  Bodies,  under  the  various  Stimuli— Its 
Power  over  the  Contraction  of  the  Muscles 
—The  Influence  of  Prolonged  Inspiration 
in  Curing  Diseases  and  giving  strength  to 
the  Body— How  does  it  compare  with  other 
Systems  of  Cure? 

On  Hooping  Couen. — What  is  Hooping 
Cough  ?— Period  of  Occurence — First  Symp- 
toms— Subtle  Character  of  the  Contagion- 
Period  of  Duration— Its  usual  attendants — 
Manner  of  Treatment— Has  Medicine  any 
power  over  it  ? 

Win.  Medicine  Curb  Consumption  ? — 
Origin  of  Consumption — The  Stethoscope 
—Formation  of  Tuhercles— Cough  an  early 
Symptom— Bronchitis. 

Scenes  in  Southern  Practice, — King 
Death  in  his  Yellow  Robe  —  The  Proud 
Merchant— The  Lovely  Creole  Wile. 

On  Croup.— What  is  Croup  ?— Its  Symp- 
toms and  Treatment. 


Scarlet  Fkvfr.— What  are  the  Causes 
of  its  Dreadful  Fatality? — Has  Medicine 
any  control  over  it. 

Rkcolleotions     op    City   Practice 

Privation— Our  Two  Lodgers — A  Faithful 
Sister— First  Affection— An  Unworthy  Ob- 
ject —  The  Artless  Victim  —  The  Young 
Mother— The  Wedding— Maternal  Love— 
The  Legacy — The  Closing  Scene. 

Importance  of  Thutu  in  Education 

The  Right  of  Discovery — Fairy  Stories — 
Children  Should  behold  Truth  in  their 
Parents. 

SOK.NKS  IN  A  WE8TERN  PHYSICIAN'S  LlFE. 

— What  is  Memory  ?— College  Life  in  the 
Country— The  Pious  Student — The  Orphan 
Betrayed  —  The  Robin's  Nest  —  Maternal 
Reflections—  What  is  Love  ? — The  Funeral 
Pile  :  what  is  its  Philosophy  ? 

Functions  op  the  Skin.— Cold  Fatal  to 
Infants. 

Scenes  in  City  Practice. — 1.  Death's 
Quartette  in  the  Garret— Delirium  Tremens 
— 2.  Precarionsne88  of  Medical  Life  in  New- 
York — A  Professional  Martyr — The  Curse 
of  an  Irish  Practice — Death  of  the  Physician, 
his  Widow  and  Child  —  Parental  Love- 
Mercantile  Affection— The  Love  of  Money. 


For  extracts  from  the  leading  Journals  of  ihe  United  States  and  England, 
see  the  next  page. 


FROM  THE 

LE^rmvc^    JOURNALS 

OP  THE 

UNITED  STATES  AND  ENGLAND. 


"  This  fascinating  volume  glows  with  a  warm  and  genial  spirit  of  humanity.  It  Is 
from  the  unmistakable  pen  of  Dr.  Dixon.  It  is  distinguished  for  its  striking  intellectual 
ability,  its  tone  of  manly  sympathy  and  touching  pathos.  Every  line  of  its  author  is  of 
value  to  the  whole  human  race."— Hobaob  Gkkkley. 

"  It  is  truly  surprising,  that  a  man  engaged  in  a  laborious  and  extensive  practice 
should  find  time  to  make  a  volume  so  absorbing  and  wonderful  in  its  power.  It  trans- 
fixes your  attention  from  the  first  to  the  last  pagf."— New  York  Times. 

' '  Dr.  Dixon,  though  a  thorough  and  accomplished  surgeon,  has  given  us  one  of  the 
most  useful  and  powerfully  written  volumes  of  the  day.  It  is  unlike  any  other  produc- 
tion in  English  literature,  and  in  our  opinion  greatly  surpasses  the  '  Diary  of  a  London 
Surgeon.'  " — New  York  Spectator. 

"He  amputates,  prescribes  and  dissects  with  about  equal  skill.  The  scenes  are 
drawn  with  a  tenderness  and  fidelity  to  nature  that  reach  the  heart  of  the  reader,  as  we 
are  sure  their  delineation  welled  up  from  the  glowing  heart  of  the  writer." — United  States 
Journal,  New  York. 

"  This  book  gives  us  a  perfect  insight  into  American  life  in  the  practice  of  a  profes- 
sional man  in  a  large  city.  It  is  written  with  the  gracefulness  of  Irving  and  the  simpli- 
city of  Goldsmith." — London  Times. 

"  It  is  written  with  the  power  of  a  skilful  dramatist,  and  yet  has  all  the  freshness  of  a 
young  writer.  Its  wit  is  irresistible ;  its  pathos  and  tenderness  melting."— London 
Examiner. 

"  It  is  seldom  that  a  man  of  Dr.  Dixon's  position  and  attainments,  rises  superior  to 
that  position  and  caste,  and  dares  to  speak  such  truths  as  are  contained  in  this  volume. 
Every  woman  in  the  land  should  read  his  words  of  life-giving  wisdom.'' — Advocate, 
Green  Day,  Wisconsin. 

"  It  is  the  work  of  a  gentleman  and  a  scholar.  It  is  printed  and  illustrated  in  a  man- 
ner that  becomes  its  author.  We  commend  it  to  every  mother  and  daughter  in  the 
land." — Mobile  Daily  Register. 

"  The  anthor  is  one  of  the  few  men  of  genius  in  his  profession,  and  though  the  most 
bold  and  imperious  of  men,  has  a  heart  full  of  tenderness  and  love  for  his  race.  His 
writings  exceed  in  brilliancy  and  vitality  anything  we  have  ever  read.'' — Hudson  Courty 
Democrat,  Hoboken,  N.  J. 

"  Dr.  Dixon  paints  with  his  pen,  you  not  only  understand,  but  you  can  see  what  he 
writes.    It  is  the  most  fascinating  book  we  ever  read." — Eagle,  Memphis,  Tenn. 

"  He  describes  with  wonderful  power,  scenes  that  have  transpired  in  his  own  practice, 
and  throughout  the  book  he  carries  captive  the  heart  and  the  head."— Register,  Yarmouth, 
Mass. 

"It  is  beautifully  printed,  and  is  a  most  fascinating  and  faithful  record  of  scenes  that 
transpired  in  the  practice  of  one  of  the  most  eminent  surgeons  of  the  United  States." — 
Circular,  Quebec,  Canada. 

"  No  novelist  could  excel  the  power  of  these  sketches,  and  the  physiological  articles 
possess  a  charm  with  which  dramatic  sketches  are  usually  invested." — Gospel  Banner, 
Augusta,  Me. 

"Dr.  Dixon  has  given  us  a  book  of  unrivalled  character.  It  has  all  the  attractions 
of  tragedy  and  comedy,  and  its  didaetic  articles  on  health  are  unrivalled.'' — Marshall 
Statesman,  Mich. 

"  It  :s  especially  a  home  book,  and  should  be  in  the  hands  of  every  parent  in  the 
land."— Gazette,  West  Byron,  N.  Y. 

ra^Copies  of  the  above  book  mailed  to  all  parts  of  the  country,  free  of  postage,  on 
receipt  of  price,  by 

E.  M.  DE  WITT,  Publisher,  13  Frankfort  St.,  N.  Y. 


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